


Unwanted

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Chan, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Romance, Sexual Content, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-27
Updated: 2007-08-27
Packaged: 2018-10-01 02:18:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 42
Words: 110,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10178465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Harry isn't what anyone thinks he is.  Hermione tries to figure our why he is suffering.  Will anyone notice The-boy-who-lived is the boy-who-is-hiding? Takes massive plot liberties with the first five books. Destroys HBP.





	1. Being yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

** Chapter 1: Being Yourself

The boy lay on his back staring straight up. He had spent the last few hours watching a spider build a web between stairs 6 and 7, directly above his head. It was growing too dark to see clearly. His brain told him that this meant the sun was going down behind the houses across the street. It was no longer shining though the big window in the living room of number 4 Privet Dr.

Harry sighed. He had been trying not to think. Trying to focus on the spider and not on the pain in his side or, worse still, the big Sirius shaped hole where his heart used to be. 

“That’s enough.” Harry hissed to himself brutally cutting off the self-pity welling up inside. Watching the spider and daydreaming had been a brief respite, a vacation of sorts for his mind. He had been trying to sort through his thoughts and his feelings. At school his pain, fear and regret had taken the form of anger. He had struck out against Professor Dumbledore, smashing the little machines on his desk. He had railed against Professor Snape. Blaming the man for his own mistakes. 

He couldn’t shut away his pain. It had broken loose in the form of anger. Trying to ignore it brought on these bouts of shameful self-indulgence. He knew he had brought this on himself and deserved to hurt. 

He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, just as Hermione had told him to do when he had been preparing for occulomancy lessons. When he had been learning to project the image of someone who was trying and failing to hide his mind. If he had truly bared his soul to Snape, if he had tried to learn to occulomancy properly Sirius would still be alive. 

He concentrated on breathing. For long and long Harry did nothing but breath. He breathed in dust and breathed out his soul. 

“Funny this is always the hardest part” he thought as he fingered the collar around his neck. So hard to remember whom he really was. 

Harry breathed in. “I’m freaky,” he sighed out. 

Harry breathed in. “I’m strange,” he sighed out. 

Harry breathed in. “I’m grotesque,” he sighed out. 

Harry breathed in. “I’m unnatural,” he sighed out. 

Harry breathed in. “I’m unwanted,” he sighed out. 

He had repeated this ritual every year. Coming back here from Hogwarts was always a shock. They went through the same routine every year. He came to Privet drive full of Harry Potter mode. The long months had almost convinced him that he really was this Potter person. This afternoon had been no different.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix had surrounded him outside the train station. They had waited with him and then told his Uncle his godfather was dead. He had gotten into the car with his silent relatives and watched his protectors fade from sight.

He had been ignored all the way back to the Dursley home until Uncle Vernon had pulled into the drive.

“Dudley, be a good man and open the garage so daddy can drive the car in.” Aunt Petunia simpered at her son over his game-boy.

Dudley grunted his assent as he slid his body sideways out the door, eyes glued to the glowing screen in his hand.   
Petunia turned with her house keys jingling on the end of her finger. She narrowed her eyes and speared Harry with a look.

“You stay put.” She ordered.

“Yes Ma’am.” Harry said rolling his eyes. He knew the drill. He was to get in and out of the car in the garage. He was never to be seen getting coming and going with the family.

Petunia’s eyes narrowed further and she turned to Vernon.

“Someone needs a lesson.” She nodded toward the back seat.

“I could use some exercise.” Vernon chuckled darkly.

Petunia patted his arm as she got out of the car and said warningly, “Don’t overdo it dear.”

As the garage door slid home Harry felt his stomach drop.  
Vernon stood beside the car.

“Out,” he said.

Harry got out.

“Kneel,” he ordered.

Harry made a break for the door to the backyard. He didn’t make it. Uncle Vernon’s hand on his arm felt like it was made of steel. Harry tried to pry the hand loose while pulling away. His Uncle’s other hand came up and grasped him by the throat holding him against the wall. Vernon lifted Harry slightly and pushed his body against his slight nephew to hold him to the wall.

The boy was making small helpless noises now. Vernon leaned against the lithe body beneath him. He felt the boy jerking against his body. He eased the tension off the narrow throat beneath his hand and heard the boy take a gasping breath. He tightened his grip again.

Grinding against the little body beneath him, he crushed the boy between his bulk and the wall.

“I only have a few minutes before you pass out you little freak. Listen to me.” He said his quiet voice full of ice.

“No one wants you. No one needs you. Even the freaks that think they care about you wouldn’t touch you if they knew what you were; disgusting, unnatural, grotesque freak.” 

Spit was flying from his mouth and his face was purple with the effort of keeping his voice down.

“You are a disease. Look what you are making me do. You are filthy, dirty,” Vernon trailed off as he began to rut against Harry’s body. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” He chanted as Harry slipped into oblivion.

Harry had awoken slumped against the wall in his cupboard. He reached his hand up and touched the collar around his neck. He ran his hand over it again. It felt different from the one he wore last year… 

Footsteps roused him from his ruminations.  
“Boy,” Uncle Vernon said though the grill on the door. “No supper tonight for ungrateful brats. Tomorrow morning Aunt Marge will be here and you can show her your new collar.” He teased. 

“Yes sir.”

“Petunia wants you up early.”

“Yes sir.”

Harry drifted off to sleep listening to the telly play in the living room.


	2. Being Hermione

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

** Chapter 1: Being Hermione

 

Hermione looked up at the first stars of the evening as she leaned back into her parent’s car to get Crookshanks’ cat carrier from the back seat. He was butting his head against the door of the small box in a useless attempt to get at the remains of Hermione’s dinner. 

“Look at him Dad,” She giggled pointing at the cage. “He is just dying to try shellfish.”

“He’s got taste that cat.” Her father said.

“Maybe I’ll give him the claw after I clean the meat out.” Hermione mused.

“Oh no!” her mother said taking the tempting package of leftovers away. “It could hurt his gums.” 

Hermione nodded. Being a dentist her mother was probably right.

“Run ahead and open the door for me,” Her dad said as he heaved her trunk out of the boot. “Did you bring home more books than you took with you?” He teased.

Hermione stuck out her tongue and giggled again as she ran up to the door with her father’s keys jingling in her hands.

Once all and sundry had been brought in and Crookshanks let back out again Hermione sat on the couch and examined the living room for any changes. She stretched and then sighed.

“It’s good to be home.” She smiled at her parents. She watched as her mother picked up the novel she was reading and her father occupied himself with a magazine. They had talked over dinner all about her year and how she felt about her OWLs. They were unwinding now from the drive and letting Hermione have a moment to become re-accustomed to their home.

She sat back and closed her eyes and listened to the ticking of the clock on the mantle. She sighed again. It was so quiet. It was too quiet. It was quiet like Harry on the last part of the train journey. It was silent like Harry’s aunt when she’d seen him at the train station. She furrowed her brow in concentration, calling on her memories of first year.

Hermione’s was approaching tears now. She’d had a terrible feeling watching the car pull away with Harry sitting on newspaper in the back seat as though he were a dog that had rolled in something smelly. Ron and the twins and even Mr. Moody and Pr. Lupin probably thought that it was some strange Muggle thing. She knew differently  
Mr. Granger looked up from his magazine to see his daughter with a troubled look on her face.

“What’s the matter Mio?” He asked, closing the magazine on his finger.

“I’m worried about Harry.” She told him.

“The boy with the raggedy clothes, ugly glasses and messy hair?” Her mother asked. “Is he in some kind of trouble?” 

Hermione gave her mother a look. “Never mind,” She said crossly. She laid her head back again.

“No really,” Mrs. Granger continued. “Don’t get mixed up with a boy in trouble. I don’t care how big his green eyes are. You don’t need that.”

Hermione’s head snapped up. “I don’t think of Harry that way.” She said firmly. “He is like a brother, or cousin to me. I don’t care how ugly or nice Harry’s clothes are. Honestly mother, when did you get so…?” She trailed off and made a disgusted sound.

Her mother’s eyes widened. She thought back over what she’d said. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just…you’re so much more mature than when you left…and you came off the train with a gang of boys…I’m worried about you…”

Hermione held her hand up. It had been a long-standing tradition in their family and their mother’s family before it, to observe this signal as a request for a moment’s pause for thought.

“Mother,” she began calmly. “That gang of boys was the Weasley family. There were actually only three of them. The other “boy” was Ginny. There is ONE of them I would like to be my boyfriend, but seeing that he only noticed I was a girl at the Yule ball last year, there isn’t much hope of that. Harry and Ron are my best friends. They have stood by me and I will continue to stand by them. I much prefer them to the girls in my year, who are vain and…well…stupid.”

“I see.” Her mother said. She had suddenly realized, about half way through Hermione’s speech, that what she had implied of her daughter was not very nice, but it had been a shock to see her so womanly and curvy coming from the train platform and she had let it bother her. 

“So,” She said attentively, “Why are you worried about your friend Harry?”

Hermione rubbed her temples and looked at her parents in turn. These were the parents she remembered; the ones who had taught her the art of rational thought and speech, and from whom she had inherited the trait of sensitivity.

“It’s a lot of things really. Some of them quite insignificant, but they just don’t add up.” She began listing them on her fingers:

“His clothes are one. His school clothes are tailored and he gets a new wardrobe of uniforms every year. You know that’s not cheap, but his casual clothes are all worn and far too large. He once admitted that he got them hand me down from his cousin. He wears his uniforms all year, unless we have a formal event and then he wears robes. As soon as it is time to go home he puts on the clothes you saw him in.

“Next are his manners. He never, ever calls a professor anything but their formal name. He never forgets to say please or thank you. He never, ever talks back, but his table manners in first year were atrocious. It was like he had never sat at a table and eaten. He watched me after the first and picked up very quickly, once he realized that Ron’s was not the example to follow.

“Oh and if someone does something to him he never gets upset. He just acts like he can shrug it off, but let someone else be hurt and Harry is right there for him or her.”

“I see,” her mother said, even though she didn’t.

“Did you ever ask him why he didn’t buy new casual clothes?” Mr. Granger asked.

“Yes and he told me that he didn’t need them. He said that they weren’t on the list.” She replied.

“They aren’t poor people…” Mrs. Granger began. “Or maybe that’s not their car. I can tell you it cost a pretty penny. Dad and I wanted one and we couldn’t afford it.”

“It sure sounded like it was their car. His uncle had newspaper on the seat and the floor and he said, ‘stay on the paper and don’t get your filth on my new upholstery.’” 

Mrs. Granger looked shocked. “Did he say that? Really?” She tipped her head to the side and studied the spot above Hermione’s head. 

“Did you ask him about his manners?” Mr. Granger asked.

“Honestly Daddy,” Said Hermione. “Then I would have been rude!” She answered colouring.

“What about the other thing?” Mrs. Granger asked. “His quickness to defend others, couples with a reluctance to look out for himself.”

“I did.” Hermione replied quietly. “I think this is really the thing that’s been bothering me. It was back in first year and it upset and confused me, so I guess I tried not to think about it. It came back to me when I sat on the couch and looked around at you two and remembered how you welcomed me at the train station and how warm our home is. It’s sort of a long story though….” She trailed off looking at her parents expectantly.

Mrs. Granger looked at her husband and asked, “Tea?” with a faint smile on her face.

He replied, “Tea.” 

Hermione’s mother went to the kitchen to start the kettle. Her father crossed the room and pulled Hermione off the couch.

“A long story?” He drawled out.

She nodded.

He led her to the kitchen where her mother was getting out the tea things. 

“Why my dear,” he smiled. “Those are the best kind.”


	3. Hermione's Story

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

** Chapter 3 Hermione's Story

 

Hermione sat on a chair at the round four-seater in their kitchen. Her mom got the teapot hot and boiled the water while her father dug though the cupboards choosing a kind of tea. Hermione had already taken the milk out of the refrigerator and gotten down the cups and sugar set.

They had a lovely dinning room with a table to seat eight with leaves to expand for twelve, but for intimate meetings such as this one they always sat at their little table in the kitchen. Hermione knew that they would allow her to tell the whole story. Even at nine or ten she had known that no matter how trivial or important the details they always listened to them all and waited for her to get out the whole thing. She had also known that this was a special feature of her family. She knew that other kids didn’t have this connection with their parents. The telling of the long story was a ritual, and a comforting one at that. To know that she was still a part of them this way made Hermione glad that they were her parents. It made her glad to be with them.

Once the tea was poured and doctored to taste Mrs. Granger reached out and squeezed her husband’s hand. 

He nodded and said, “Tell us your story Mio.”

Hermione thought back to first year and told her tale.

“We were in potions, about a month after Halloween in first year and one of the Slytherins to sabotaged Harry’s potion. When potion went wrong, it made a mess and Professor Snape gave Harry a detention because of it.

“When we went to lunch Ron was fuming about how the potion going bad wasn’t Harry’s fault and how unfair it was that Harry was going to have a detention. 

“I remember that the tables had been turned a few weeks before that, with Ron having the detention and Harry commiserating. Harry wasn’t quite as vehement in Ron’s favour as Ron was being for him, but he definitely thought that the professor had been in the wrong to give a detention to Ron. Harry had been adamant about that.

“Well this time only Ron is getting worked up. Harry wasn’t upset at all, so I asked him, ‘Harry why aren’t you mad at the Professor for giving you a detention?’

“He said, ‘I deserved it.’

“I was shocked. I asked him, ‘Why, did you put something in it that would make your cauldron run over like that?’

“’No,’ he replied. 

“’Then you don’t deserve to be punished,’ Ron cut in.

“’Yes, I do.’ Harry said.

“Ron had this really intense look on his face. He was just staring at Harry, like he was a puzzle to figure out. 

“His mouth was full of food at this point and luckily he just made a circular motion with his hand that apparently indicated to Harry that he should elaborate.

“I had to hand it to Harry for understanding Ron’s hand signals, but I was shocked by what Harry told us both.

“He said, ‘I deserve to be punished because I am an unnatural little freak that makes things go badly just by being there. Professor Snape sees what I really am. He knows what I deserve.’

“I asked, ‘what do you mean he sees what you really are?’

“He shrugged and looked slightly quizzical. ‘I’m not like you. I’m different. Nobody wanted me growing up. I’m a thing I suppose, a disgusting unnatural thing.’

“He pointed at Ron. ‘He keeps acting like he expects people to treat me like an ordinary person. Like they should care about me. Back home it was understood…’

“I was taken aback by this, but Ron and Harry had obviously had similar discussions before and Ron cut Harry off. ‘Everybody cares about you Harry,’ Ron said sounding slightly irritated.

“Harry shook his head sadly at Ron and then looked at me as though to confirm his idea that our friend was a bit slow for thinking that Harry should be afforded the same sympathies as himself. Looking back I later realized that Harry thought that I could see whatever he thought Professor Snape could see.

“Does that make any sense so far?” Hermione asked her parents.

They nodded.

She continued.

“Later that day I clued in that Harry thought I knew he was different from the rest of us. I decided that I had to find out what he meant. It was a few days later when Ron was off with his brothers that I approached Harry on the topic. He was sitting on the couch by the window in the common room fooling around with Ron’s rat Scabbers. 

“I sat down and we both made some inane comments about the weather or classes or something, I forget. Eventually I led the subject around to him being different. I made a joke about there still being room in the girls’ dorm if he didn’t fit in with the boys. 

“He sat up very straight and said quietly, ‘I’m not really a girl either.’

“I was trying to play along and hoping he would reveal more to me than he had to Ron. I knew that if he had told Ron exactly what kind of creature he was, Ron would have either rejected his friendship outright or supported Harry fully. Ron doesn’t do things by halves. He would have told him that whatever creature he was, he had feelings too. So I said, ‘Well you might be happier up with us than over with the boys.’ I was grasping at clues you see.

“He looked affronted and said, ‘Hermione, no one houses a critter like me near girls. Professor Dumbledore is brilliantly mad not disgustingly depraved.’

“I was shocked into revealing my ignorance. ‘You speak as though you were some kind of pet.’ I said. 

“I was lucky in that he had been watching Scabbers and not me. If he had seen the concern in my face or sympathy in my eyes he would have clamed up. Since he hadn’t seen me he continued under the misunderstanding that I knew what he was.

“He was looking down at the rat in his lap and petting him. He looked sad, almost wistful.

“’A pet.’ He mused. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice. No Hermione, never fear, I am well aware of my status. I know that I can never be a pet. No one will ever love me as this little one is loved.’

“Ron burst in at that moment full of news and our discussion was dropped. Later in the year when I asked him about it, he said that he had been joking. He had settled in by then, and now I realize that he had merely perfected his act, his human act.”

“Harry began to behave more like a combination of Ron and I. He began to talk Quidditch with the other boys and ran in the halls, or left his things around the common room like they did. He began to imitate my habit of speaking up when he knew something that could help someone.

“By the time we were ready to go after the stone, I think I was convinced that the Harry we were seeing was the real Harry. We had bought his disguise.

“The Harry I had first met was still there; the boy who waited for others to speak first and who judged each person on their own merits. He was still there, but he had disguised the real him, whatever he is, behind a façade.”

Once they knew she was done they poured another round of tea. Each member of their little family was silent a moment to digest the story.

“Are you implying he’s not human?” Her mother asked.

“Yes…no. I think he is a different kind of human. I think those people have convinced him that being special is horrid.” Hermione answered.


	4. Story's End.

NOTE: I am trying to update everyother day, but I missed yesterday so there will be one today...and one tomorrow. 'kay love yah, b'bye.  
Sly Stir

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

**Chapter 4 Story's End

“Are you afraid of him?” Hermione's father asked her. “Is that what’s worrying you?”

“Oh no.” Hermione laughed. “Harry is the last person on the planet I would be scared of. I’m scared for him.

“His godfather died in that fiasco at the ministry.” She said. “For a few moments when it happened Harry was inconsolable. He was also very, very real. He was the Harry that I first met and that I can almost feel lurking below the surface.

“I’ve replayed the scene over in my head. I’ve heard what was coming out of his mouth. That was what triggered the memory from first year. That was what got me worrying.”

“Do you think he will hurt himself?” Her mother asked, very concerned.

“No. Harry isn’t selfish like that. It was just like he had lost his only hope. Harry had hoped to go and live with Sirius. He was rocking and he whispered; “Now you’ve done it freak. You got him killed. He cared for you. He must have known. Oh no, Sirius, please come back. Stupid…clumsy…freak…dummy…dreams…you can’t hide in your dreams…alone…alone…he knew me…he knew.”

“After that he called for Sirius a bunch of times. 

“Later on at the school he worked himself into a temper. He seemed to be angry with everyone, but knowing him well I could see that he was working at it. Almost as though he was directing a different emotion into anger or acting as he thought he should.

“Oh, and earlier in the year he wanted me to help him learn mind magic from a bunch of books he got.” Hermione’s face showed shock at the memory.

“Mum, he had practically memorized those books he was so desperate to learn. He couldn’t have had them from the library above a couple of weeks. He said he couldn’t have Professor Snape traipsing around in his mind. He said that he had secrets he wanted to keep.

“There was no way he could perfect it in so short a time, but he learned to mask himself and throw out only the images he wanted the Professor to see.

“At the start Harry had said the secret was that he had a crush on Cho Chang, but I don’t think that was it. It was whatever he was originally hiding.” Hermione rubbed her face thinking.

She nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose you should write him often dear, to be sure you stay in contact...”

Hermione looked relieved. “I would really love to get him here. You know…to talk it out with him. You’d help me…” She trailed off and looked saddened. “I don’t know if they will even give him my letter.”

Mrs. Granger looked at her baby’s clouded countenance and took her hand. 

“You’re really this worried about him, dear?”

“Mum, it’s weird between Harry and I. I taught him table manners, how to tie his tie, how to make study notes and schedule. He comes to me when he has trouble and he trusts me enough to ask me really embarrassing questions. I know he’s only 6 months younger than me, but I feel like he is my little brother and I have somehow missed something, and I think it may be something big.”

Hermione’s mother squeezed her fingers. Feeling protective of a younger sibling she understood. She had similar friends in her own boarding school experience.

“Well, we’re engaged all this week to take you around to all the family and see them and we are going to France for a week and you promised to stay with your cousin Ellen for a week and see if you though her baby Thomas was showing signs of being magical...I just don’t see how we can manage it. Perhaps I’ll write to Molly Weasley. I’ll tell her we’re concerned about Harry and they can pop around and have a look at him, on his birthday.” She suggested.

Hermione brightened at this. 

“Would you please? I’m sure Mrs. Weasley can be more help to him than I can.” She yawned. It had been a long day.

“Are you okay now Mio?” Her dad asked.

“I’m more rational now. Thanks.” She said.

“Remember that Harry is a powerful wizard Hermione.” Her father reminded her as he stood and collected the cups. 

“After all if he defeated what’s his face he can defend himself from his own demons for another month.” He had said half of this into Hermione’s bushy hair because he had pulled Hermione to her feet and hugged her. 

“Get some sleep,” He said as he released her. 

She leaned down and pecked her mother’s cheek. Her mother caught her eye. “You’ll see him when you go to the Weasley’s this August. You can figure him out then.” She said reassuringly.

“You’re right. I’m making too much of it I’m sure.” Hermione yawned again as she straightened up. She stared toward the kitchen door. “Goodnight Mum, Goodnight Dad. See you in the morning.”

In the doorway she turned and rested on the lintel. “What’s cousin Ellen’s baby Thomas doing again?” She asked sleepily.

“There are a couple of things. Eh…he doesn’t stay in the crib all night.” Her father tried to remember as he picked the tea bags out of the pot and put them in the compost bucket under the sink. “He gets out somehow.” He added.

“He probably climbs out.” Mrs. Granger said. “You were a climber too Mio.” She remembered fondly.

Hermione nodded to her mother. “Can I see the letter she sent tomorrow?” She asked her dad. 

Her father nodded to her and she turned to go upstairs. A moment later she came back to the doorway with a smile on her face.

“Hey mum how sure are you I climbed out?” Hermione ribbed. “After all, it did turn out that I am a witch.” She giggled.

Her mother looked startled a moment and then gave Hermione a crooked grin. “Too true. Goodnight Hermione.”

“Goodnight mother.”


	5. An End to Dreaming

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

For Anaknisatanas: A little longer this time my dear

**Chapter 5 An End to Dreaming

Sharp knuckles rapped on the cupboard door and Harry was roused from his not so sweet slumber.

“Up, up get up,” Petunia screeched through the grill.

“Yes Ma’am” Harry said right away, though he hadn’t found his glasses yet. Things were rather jumbled in his cupboard right now as his uncle had just dumped he and his things in and closed the door. Harry had felt too achy and tired last night to sort it out at all.

He’d managed to get the elusive glasses on his face and get himself up and kneeling in front of the door just as she pulled it open.

“You’re going to be good today?” she asked brandishing the spatula at him.

“Yes Ma’am.” He answered clearly, his eyes glued to hers. 

“You’re going to obey?” She asked. The little flourish she gave the spatula at the end of the word obey almost drew Harry’s eyes, but he managed to stay focused and attentive.

“Yes Ma’am.” He remained clear and respectful.

“We have much to do today. You will eat when we are completely done.” She ordered.

“Thank you Ma’am.” Harry said. He found himself truly thankful. The transition back to the Privet Drive him was complete.

Petunia held the spatula out to him and he took it and headed to the kitchen to finish breakfast and lay it on the table. Harry knew that Vernon and Dudley would be down to eat shortly. He also knew not to put any food in his mouth. He didn’t even consider it. He knew he didn’t deserve to eat; he hadn’t earned it yet. Even he was not so bad a boy as that.

Breakfast went surprisingly well for Harry’s first one home after a long absence. This was more due to the fact that it was awfully early and they were not quite up to ribbing him yet, than any deference to Harry himself. 

“Coffee boy.” Vernon grunted holding up the cup he had just drained. 

“Yes Sir” Harry said as he left his place standing against the counter and took his uncle’s cup. He made the coffee the way his uncle liked and brought it back to him. Harry held the cup out until his uncle stabbed at an empty spot by his plate. Harry set it down and made his way back to his place.

As he was walking away he heard an audible slurp and a sigh. He allowed himself a little smile. He’d fixed it right!

“When does Marge’s train arrive?” Petunia asked Vernon.

“9:00 am. I should have left that thing” he said poking his fork toward Harry “at the station until this morning, then I could’ve gotten both at once.”

“Well, I know it wasn’t worth the drive just to get him, but I needed new linens and whatnot to turn the little bedroom into a nice boudoir for your sister. Besides Duddikins wanted his new game and they only released it in the big London shop yesterday.” She reminded him.

“I suppose that makes it worth it.” He shrugged his massive shoulders and smiled at his son. “Long bloody drive though.”

Petunia made a sympathetic face and patted his shoulder. “You’re good to your sister dear. She’ll be happier here after her surgery. It’s a good thing we could move him back to his right place.” She glared at Harry. She’d had a hell of a time clearing out all of the junk in that room. It didn’t matter that all the junk was Dudley’s and that Harry’s every belonging was in the trunk under the stairs with him. It was still his fault.

“M’tired mummy.” Dudley whined as he finished his second plate of breakfast.

“Oh popkins. You can sleep while daddy drives. Auntie Marge is so looking forward to seeing you when she comes off the train.” Petunia said while waving Harry over and pointing at Dudley’s plate. 

Harry made a guess and slid some bacon from the pan onto Dudley’s plate, then glanced into his aunt’s teacup. He took her tea to the sink and rinsed it and then placed it back on the saucer. As he was setting it down it started to tip and came dangerously close to knocking against the creamer. He used his other hand to steady it and then placed it down.

“Fresh cup.” Petunia snapped. “No one wants to drink from a cup after you’ve touched the lip with your disgusting hand.” She sniffed.

“Sorry Ma’am. Yes Ma’am.” Harry said as he took the cup to the sink and got her a fresh one. 

“No mistakes like that when Marge is here.” She ordered sternly.

“No Ma’am.” Harry affirmed.

The kitchen timer dinged and Harry took the biscuits out of the oven. He took three, piping hot and broke them open, buttered them liberally, added some jam and then tucked them into a paper bag on the counter. He filled his uncle’s take away cup with coffee and got a bottle of soda from the refrigerator for Dudley.

“We’re off son.” Said Uncle Vernon. Taking the cup from Harry and kissing Petunia on the cheek he strode out to the door that led to the garage.

Dudley stuffed two more slices of bacon in his mouth as he stood and wiped his fingers on the tablecloth. He took the bag and bottle from Harry and gave him a thump on the shoulder. He looked down at the bottle and spied the word diet on the label. 

“Rudy diet.” He complained. He relived his momentary frustration by poking Harry hard in the stomach and then followed his father out the door. 

Harry straightened up and turned back to the counter to put the rest of the biscuits in their tin. Behind him his aunt was finishing her tea and he heard her sigh. 

“Well that’s that job done.” She congratulated herself.

Harry finished packing up the biscuits and put the tin away and went to the table to clear it off.

Petunia was writing a list of things that had to get done before dinner.

“Ma’am” Harry said.

“What?” She snapped, affronted at being address. 

She glared at him thinking, “hadn’t they gotten him past asking questions yet?” She wondered. “Did he think he only had to obey when Vernon was home? She’d show him.” She thought as she fingered the little button in her pocket.

“Dudley’s game-boy Ma’am.” Harry said pointing to where it sat on the table in front of her.

She grabbed the game-boy and made a dash for the garage.

“Vernon!” She called as she trotted away. “Oh I caught you.” She said when she saw she had gotten to her husband just as he got out of the vehicle to close the garage door.

“Ah, Dudder’s game.” Vernon smiled indulgently. “Always watching for your boy.” 

Petunia beamed under the praise. “I keep a sharp eye.” She simpered.

She waved and smiled as they left the driveway. She came back into the house and resumed her previous occupation of making her list. The list would be in her apron pocket and as the day progressed and tasks got done she would check them off. 

Harry was scraping plates into the compost bin and was saving aside the scraps of bacon on a piece of waxed paper. When he had all of the scraps scraped into the bin he folded the wax paper up and laid it on the shelf under the sink. Then he put the compost bin back on top of it.

He began the washing up then, first rinsing any tiny scraps, crumbs and stickiness down the drain, then rinsed the sink out and gave it a quick wash with the dishcloth and a little dish liquid. Then he put the stopper in and began to fill the sink with sudsy water. Dunking the dishcloth into the wash sink he gave the rinse tub a little wash, ran the fresh hot water into it and then he began to wash. He washed in Petunia’s precisely regulated order. He was a good boy and knew the rules.

First he washed the glasses, then cups and saucers, then spoons followed by forks and knives. Next the plates were set in to soak while the first items were dried and put away. The second wash load consisted of dinnerware. The third wash load was any pot, pan or sundry that had been used in cooking the meal. 

Harry lifted up the pot and found the butter knife underneath. He put down the pot and began to wash the knife. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see that boy.” Petunia said as she stood to come and watch him. 

He put the knife into the rinse water and lifted it back out. Harry knew the rinse water would be too cold to her mind to do the knife properly, so he ran the hot water fresh from the tap onto the knife to rectify the problem. The water began to scald and the knife to get hot and he started to draw his hand away. 

Petunia’s hand griped Harry's elbow. “Not so hasty boy.” She spat. She held the knife under for a few seconds longer thoroughly scalding Harry’s hand.

She pointed at the reddened hand. “Let that stand as a lesson to you boy. Do the chores properly or suffer.”

“Yes Ma’am” Harry said still holding the knife. 

She released his elbow and wiped her hand on her apron. With her face pinched tightly she muttered, “disgusting thing.” 

Harry dried the knife and put it away.


	6. Dreaming of Kind Words.

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

** Chapter 6 Dreaming of Kind Words

With both of them working on the cleaning the house was fresh and spotless in plenty of time. Petunia found that Harry remembered his training well and she simply had to spit single words at him to co-ordinate him with her movements through the house. Every window was washed. Every doorknob polished. Each and every surface cleared of knick-knacks wiped and arranged again just so.

Harry had a slight shock when he saw his old room, Dudley’s second bedroom. It was painted a rosy kind of colour and had a wallpaper border with bulldogs that cunningly picked up the tone of the walls and the dark wood of the baseboards, window sill and new furniture. The bed even had a bulldog coverlet on it. 

The bars were off the window, of course, but the decorating really made the difference. The room was friendly now. The Dursleys actually wanted Marge in the room. Harry, like Dudley’s old TV set, had merely been stored there until he could safely be thrown out.

Harry looked from the repaired doorframe and new door, with no sign of a cat-flap in it, to the window with its new Venetian blinds and doggie valance with a smile. He moved into the room and extended his duster to its maximum reach so that he could run it around the tops of the walls for spider webs. That was always the first step in cleaning any room with Aunt Petunia.

She watched with delight the shock on his face when he saw the transformation. She was slightly surprised at the little smile that then appeared on his face. 'Didn’t he miss this room? Wasn’t he disappointed at being removed from the privilege of sleeping on the same level as her precious family?' She wondered. She narrowed her eyes at him while he dusted around the ceiling. 

“Window boy” She said directing him to his next task. Then she brushed her silly thoughts away. What was she doing trying to figure it out? It was a waste of her precious time and energy trying to fathom the mind of something like Harry. It was like trying to understand Marge’s dog. 

“Here ma’am” Harry said handing Petunia the valance he had taken down in preparation for washing the window.

She took it from him being certain that they did not touch as it changed hands; gloves or no gloves. 

They'd done their best to make it look like a human boy, but the makeover didn't fool her. She knew what was under Harry's clothes, under his very skin. The unnaturalness of it made her sick. Sicker than her sister had ever made her.

Harry caught her eye. He raised both eyebrows and opened his mouth slightly.

“Speak” she sighed out permission for him to break the silence with out being spoken to.

“Miss Dursley is really going to love this room Ma’am.” He complimented her.

“Humph” she grunted. She pointed at the window washing tools and said again, “Window boy.” 

“Yes Ma’am” Harry said.

Petunia hated it when he looked right in her eyes. It felt almost as though their minds touched or something. A disgusted shiver ran down her spine. If she hadn’t been terrified of the other wizards and what they would do if she left him homeless and bereft of the protection of the blood wards they had written her about, then she would have thrown him out without hesitation. She had to suffer through two more Julys of the creature being here and then he would be 17, and of age, and he would be gone.

The breezed through the rest of the upstairs and when Petunia was hanging her latex gloves under the sink and she saw a bit of waxed paper sticking out from underneath the compost bin. She stood and glared down on Harry where he was putting the floor wax and other chemicals away next to her.

“Boy, what is that?” She asked with false calm.

Harry looked up from his knees. 

“Ma’am?” He queried looking up.

Harry followed where her finger was pointing.

“That.” She locked her elbow, arm going rigid with mounting anger. 

Harry lifted the compost bucket moved it to the side revealing the waxed paper wrapped bacon. 

“It’s bacon Ma’am.” He replied nervously.

Petunia’s nostrils flared. Her voice took on a hard edge. If she herself had been magical she would have cut Harry when she barked out the command “Kneel” to the boy.

Harry didn’t balk this time. He came out of the cupboard on his knees and straightened himself out so that his knees were tight together. His bottom sat on his heels and with his back rigid and hands laced in his lap he looked up at her for instruction or correction, whatever was to follow.

Petunia brought the little black button out of her pocket. She showed it to Harry.

“Do you know what this is boy?” She asked menacingly

“No Ma’am” He replied. It looked very much like the button Uncle Vernon pushed to work the television. “Remote?” He tried.

“Very good” She said mockingly. “Do you know what it works boy?”

“No Ma’am” Harry stopped himself at the last minute from shaking his head. 

She pushed it.

Harry felt a sharp pinch and jolt from the collar around his neck.

“Shock collar.” She said.

Harry’s hands involuntarily flew apart and moved toward his throat. He managed to control himself and brought them back down before they’d even ascended half way.

“Don’t move.” She admonished. She issued a shock as punishment. She lifted her finger off the button when he complied.

“Lowest setting.” She informed him.

“Thank you Ma’am.” He breathed out.

“Explain the bacon.” She said this as though issuing a challenge. She held up the black button as if to say that he should make it a good explanation.

“Ripper.” Harry said pointing at the two dishes under the sink. One was a clean, relatively new, white dog bowl with Ripper printed clearly on the side. The second bowl was cracked and scratched, but also clean.

“I saved it for Ripper.” He continued.

Petunia nodded, not quite believing him. 

“You wanted to give Marge’s dog some extra food, so you got more of the table scraps?” She guessed.

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

She pushed the button again. 

“Don’t move.” She rebuked him.

“S-sorry Ma’am” Harry stuttered. He hated when he was bad. He could feel her anger coming at him in waves. He could feel what she felt more clearly than anyone else. He imagined it had something to do with their being family. Petunia always spoke with repugnance about their blood connection. The end result was that he could feel her loathing and revulsion like something bad he had eaten sitting in the pit of his stomach. Never was it more clear she hated him than when she was angry.

“The bacon.” She reminded him of the topic rather firmly.

“Yes Ma’am,” Harry said. “I know how much Ripper likes bacon…” He started.

“So you thought you could feed him up on that while you ate his portion of the scraps?" She said shrilly. She gave him a jolt with the collar.

"You're always jealous when he comes that you have to share. You're an animal. Learn to eat faster” She bit out disdainfully.

“No Ma’am. Its not that” Harry gasped out. He had been sweating and it was really starting to burn every time she pushed that button. “I thought you could put it in your apron pocket in a little plastic bag.” 

Petunia’s eyebrows went up toward her hairline. 

Harry continued quickly as he saw her finger moving toward the now hated switch. “If you broke it up you could throw him a piece when he runs at you and you wouldn’t get runs in your stockings from him jumping up, ma’am.”

Petunia tipped her head to the side in thought and then stood. She got a bag from the cupboard and dropped it in front of Harry. 

“Alright” She said dismissively putting the button back in her pocket. 

Harry broke up the bacon into nice dog size pieces. The smell excited his stomach and he ruthlessly crushed his desire to eat a piece.

They heard the garage door open and Petunia took the baggie from Harry and shoved his water bottle at him. “Cupboard.” She ordered.

“Yes Ma’am” Harry acknowledged as he came up off of his knees in one move.

“Not a sound ‘til I let you out to make supper boy.” She ordered through the grate as she slid the latch into place.

“No Ma’am” Harry said quietly in compliance.

Petunia went to the door and held it open for Marge and Ripper to enter.

“‘Lo Petunia. Nice o’ you ta have me an’ Ripper through me surgery this summer” Marge said in her gruff tone.

“You’re welcome here. I only hope you like the room.” Petunia said graciously.

“Vernon’s bringin’ me bags.” She told Petunia as she headed for the living room to make herself at home.

Harry heard the scrabbling of paws as Ripper escaped Marge’s grip.

He heard the crunching and lapping sounds of the dog getting a crunchy treat.

Marge exclaimed. “Oh Petunia, tha’s nice o’ you. You’re spoilin’ ripper now. And he so loves bacon. Don’t you Ripper.”

“Well I want him to be welcome to.” Petunia said sappily.

Harry smiled at his success. Perhaps if he found more things to make her life easier Petunia would think more kindly of him. In the mean time he was happy that she wasn't, at the moment, thinking of him at all.

He drank his water and licked his fingers. He loved bacon nearly as much as ripper did.


	7. The words of a letter

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

Chapter 7: The Words of a Letter.

Professor Snape, Hogwarts Snarky Git, Bastard Extraordinaire, took a scrolled letter from his desk drawer and placed it on the surface before him. He had had the letter for several months and was yet to read it. 

Normally if he received a letter he would immediately read it and reply. He didn’t like unfinished details, unexplained mysteries or outstanding business. For the real Severus, the one who lived deep inside the dark exterior, order was tantamount. 

The problem with the letter was that it made him feel so much. For a spy control is everything. During the school year and in the course of his business as an imitation Death Eater, Severus Snape was not permitted to express how he felt. To begin allowing his body and his face to articulate his emotions would be a colossal mistake. In his role as a spy, control was everything. 

During the year he took potions that suppressed some emotions making it easier for him to remain analytical and behave the way that he was supposed to in his role. Once school let out and it was only the staff left at the castle Severus could take a little holiday from being the Greasy Git. He had a few weeks where he could be himself. He had saved the letter for just such a time.

Severus reached out a hand and ran a finger along the scrawled, slanted letters that made up his name. He allowed himself a shiver as he thought on the author of the text. 

“Harry.” He whispered. Allowing his eyes to close while his sensitive fingers stroked across the indentations that always accompanied the boy’s writing. He allowed himself to imagine Harry writing his name. He pictured the green eyed waif in his normal writing position with his left hand splayed across the upper right hand corner of the parchment holding it flat while his arm lay across the upper edge. 

“Oh Severus you are twice damned” he told himself.

Severus stroked the word again. He allowed himself to sink deeper into the languid pool of reverie.

When writing Harry always sat on the edge of his stool with his feet tucked underneath the stool on the step bar. Severus recalled that Potter still used the step bar to get his bottom up on the stool. The rest of his class was at least a head taller than him, even the girls. If Severus were not mistaken the young man would never even reach 5 feet.

With his back slightly arced and his head bent over his work and tilted slightly to the side the boy looked more like he was perched than seated. There was a natural, almost Elvin, grace to the way Harry sat. 

Severus focused on his mirage Harry.

The only awkward thing about Harry was always his writing hand. He always held his quill stiffly in his right hand with his knuckles pressed hard together as if to gain a measure of control. This is what caused the indentations in the paper. The boy must run through quills at an alarming rate. If he loosened up, his penmanship would improve.

Severus imagined taking Harry’s small hand in his and massaging it into relaxing and then holding it in his own to show his little imp how to form even flowing letters. 

He was holding the scroll against his cheek now, lost in dreams. 

Severus envisioned himself standing behind the seated Harry, looking over his shoulder at the smooth progress of the quill held by their combined hands. He watched their joined progress feeling the warmth of the body in front of him in a comforting way. He reveled in the notion that he could guide and protect his little one from his position. He watched as their hands lifted together to slide the parchment up the desk, allowing more to unwind from the roll resting in Harry’s lap. 

When he imagined his hand resting on Harry’s narrow shoulder, his fingers curled gently around the sinew, the illusion broke. The little Gryffindor was fine boned and spare, Snape knew, but his shoulders were unusually sinewy almost as though he had extra bones there. He’d had the small man’s shoulders in his hands in the past. 

The memory of the evening he’d caught Harry in his pensive snapped him out of his daydream. 

He lowered the parchment to the desk and steeled himself to face the recollection. 

He had entered his own classroom and caught his prying student in the act of invading his privacy. He pulled the boy from the pensieve by the shoulders, hoping he hadn’t seen anything traumatic yet. There were death eater memories there; memories that no one should ever have to see. Memories Severus Snape himself wished he could un-see. 

He spun Harry around to face him and could tell by the young man’s strained expression that he’d seen something that upset him. 

When the boy started to stumble over apologies for what the Marauders had done to Severus the man lost control. 

His heart completely opened to the little one before him. His foolish spirit decided that it had found its match. He gazed down at the pretty face fighting tears before him. Teeth clenched, nostrils flared the little lion was trying hard not to weep. This imp cared about how he had been treated. His little one felt for him. Harry saw him as a person. Just as he was about to clutch the young man to his chest and assure him that those old hurts no longer stung, his mind reigned in his foolish heart. 

Professor Snape was a spy. He was a death eater. He was the nasty greasy git. No one was to ever know that he had a soft center. No one was to believe the magnificent bastard had a heart. He was not meant to form attachments. The nasty teacher was not worthy of such a sweet soul as this. He slid his hands down Harry’s shoulders, closing his fingers on the boy’s biceps and launched him across the room, yelling for him to get out.

His magic had perceived Harry as a threat to the real Severus who lay beneath the façade. It had given the savior of the wizard world an extra push, banging him against the shelf hard, raining specimen jars, luckily not containing anything corrosive, around the boy-who-lived.

Harry crumpled and rolled after hitting, amazingly coming to his feet. Severus was half way across the classroom already, coming to tend to the boy out of sheer instinct, but the imp was faster. He swiftly shook the broken glass from his hair and robes and clearly said, “Yes sir, sorry sir,” and shot obediently out the door.

Severus sighed and shook himself. 

“Just because you’ve decided to feel doesn’t mean you need to wallow in it.” He told himself sternly. 

He rolled over the parchment and looked at the seal. It was the generic library seal that Madam Pince kept available for the muggleborn students to use for their private letters home. His eyebrows crept together.

“Why aren’t you using the Potter seal little one?” He asked the letter writer. 

Shaking his head again he broke the seal and read:

_  
Professor Snape Sir,_

_Please accept my profound apologies for having invaded your privacy Sir. I am a disgusting creature to have done it. One such as I should not even consider such an action._

_I am horrid and I have no valid excuse for what I did. I can only say that I am truly ashamed of myself and wish I had obeyed._

_I deserve any punishment you think fit. I will humbly submit to any retribution you bestow upon my person._

_Should you wish to remove the memories by obliviation you have my written permission._

_Sir, You and I both know that one such as I does not really deserve to have a choice in such matters, but I wanted you to know that I am not so caught up in my role of “the boy who lived” to have forgot what I really am._

_I am so sorry I did not obey._

_I swear no other will ever know what I saw within. You were right about my father. He was an arrogant boor to treat a young gentleman such as you with such callous disregard._

_I am sorry for polluting your Pensieve with my soiled presence. I will make sure a new one is sent to you in September. (I am not permitted to Gringotts or Diagon Alley other than the first of the year.)_

_Should you wish one sooner you would have to go through the odious task of negotiating my release either from Gryffindor tower or from Privet Drive and my distasteful company, as Professor Dumbledore has not permitted that I leave either residence without a minder from The Order._

_Should you wish to take action with the headmaster against me I have enclosed a letter explaining what I have done, but not what I witnessed within your memories. It will save you the task of explaining what my filthy actions._

_If you would be so kind as to peruse it before you give it to him. Strike out any detail you do not wish me to reveal. I hope this will prevent me bringing further indignity to your person._

_My inadequate apologies,_

_Harry James Potter  
_

Severus examined the letter closely. It had several marks upon it where the ink had pooled and run. Starburst marks like the ones left when his tea dripped onto the pages of an essay he was marking. These were different though. The liquid had obviously been clear and had come in contact with the parchment when the ink was still a bit wet and could be affected by it. 

Did the boy write this letter in the owl tower while it was raining? No, it had been clear that night. It was tears. The little Gryffindor lion had been crying as he wrote it.

Severus had expected the letter to contain anger as well as contrition.

He pondered over Harry’s reaction to being treated so ruthlessly treated. He analyzed Harry’s response to what had occurred that evening. 

The boy had recovered from the blow dealt him swiftly. He had attempted neither to defend himself nor to strike back at his Professor.

The Potions Master had waited through the next few days for a summons to Dumbledore’s office. He had expected the little Gryffindor to go to Madam Pomfrey for healing and report what had happened. That Professor Snape’s his manhandling of a student had gone unreported was shocking. 

More disturbing though was the obsequious exit, the sudden obedience. The letter was overdone in the manner that only an emotional 15-year-old boy can really achieve and the word such was grossly overused, but it reminded Severus of something, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something that caused the protective side of his feelings for the letter writer came to the fore. An almost unreasoning urge to find the boy and make sure he was well surged through the normally sedate Potions Master. He needed to calm himself and think, not feel for a moment.

Now that he reflected upon Harry’s behavior the other thing about those evenings that didn’t add up was the young man’s attempts to block him. Severus, though an expert at legimency, should have hit resistance of some kind. 

He put aside the letter a moment and focused on the shape of Harry’s resistance in Occulomancy lessons. Naturally, there should have been a barrier in the boy’s mind. Even Muggles have it. 

Severus couldn’t feel anything but tenderness when remembering the tone and flavor of Harry’s thoughts. The clarity and sadness combined to draw the protective and possessive nature the Greasy Git mask hid. Harry’s thoughts flowed below the surface of his mind rapidly, but some basic shielding should have been there, unless his little one was empathic. 

That was a rare trait indeed, only found in some hyper sensitive, rather delicate creatures. Oh they were wizards to be sure, but so rare they were almost legend. They were the equivalent of what Muggles called angels. One hadn’t been born for centuries. There was no way to breed one. They were simply so excessively magical; they were almost made of the stuff.

Many pureblood witches and wizards tried to trace their lineage back to one such Wizard. 

Imagine if Potter was one. How that would blow the Dark Lord’s theories away. What if the first Shefro in centuries was born to a “Mud-blood” witch and a “blood traitor”?

Severus pushed his fanciful thoughts aside and went in search of some strong tea to drink while looking over the boy’s letter to Albus and composing his own. Something was afoot here. Perhaps in his two weeks of freedom, he could figure it out.


	8. Letters Examined

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

**** Chapter 8: Letters Examined**

Professor Snape gave the call cord in his sitting room a sharp pull and rubbed his face with his hands trying to slow his thoughts down enough to read Harry’s letter to Albus and sort through what he thought and felt. A house elf soon appeared in response to his call.

“Professor Snape sir.” The house elf said, bowing low.

The potions master studied the little creature as it straightened. “Good morning Noddy. I would like a pot of strong black tea and some scones or rolls if you can find them.”

“Yes sir.” The elf bowed low and popped out of sight.

Severus strolled back to his desk and began to clear it of the year’s detritus. Over the course of each term he would make himself memos about what he wanted to get done as well as assignments from the headmaster and whatnot. 

Unfinished business was in the uppermost pigeonhole in the left hand corner of his desktop. It was naturally empty at this time of year. The rest of the spaces were filled with completed tasks. It was these that he now sorted through, throwing most of them in his fire basket. 

It was always very satisfying to drop parchment balls into the small enchanted box and watcing them it burn. Each little puff of smoke represented a task completed. Severus watched the last one go up in flames and looked at the four left on his blotter.

The remainder of the notes contained information that he wished to transfer. He picked a tiny black book from his robe pocket, un-shrunk it and placed it on the desktop. He copied down three fire-call names of experts he had heard of during the year that he thought would be handy for research the following September. He reshrank his black book and replaced it in his pocket. 

Then he took a tiny green book from his pocket and un-shrunk it. It was a large, dog-eared volume. He turned the pages until he came to his notes on calming draughts. Here he entered a side effect that Madam Pomfrey had told him about. He made himself a new memo detailing the circumstances and the remedy he had used to counteract the side effect. Underneath these he wrote both, “Notify St. Mungo’s of possible reaction and counter” and “research more innocuous substitute for blackberry root.”

When this was done and the pigeonholes were all empty save this one note he had just made himself he felt much more in control. It always amazed him how a simple physical task could be calming when one felt overwhelmed. Just as he had seated himself, wondering where the elf was, the creature reappeared.

Noddy bowed low once again.

“Noddy is horridly sorry sir. Noddy has no excuse sir, but there is no rolls or scones today sir.” The elf’s rather large liquid eyes told a clear story of its genuine distress.

On the tray in its hands were a steaming pot of tea, a cup and saucer and a plate of toast, dry the way he liked it.

“The toast will do just as well Noddy. Thank you very much.” He said, making sure to keep his tone even and sound pleased. These little beings were bred from infancy to please. They were always so upset when they couldn’t fill an order. 

He nodded toward the desk where the house-elf deposited his breakfast.

Noddy looked up after setting the tray down. “Noddy thanks you sir. You is too kind to this miserable creature.”

“You did well,” Snape said reassuringly. He enjoyed how the little elf’s face lit up at his words. “Good morning Noddy.” 

“Good Morning, sir” Noddy replied. He was still bowed low when he disappeared.

Severus sat down, poured his tea and feeling properly prepared unrolled the unsealed letter Harry had prepared for Professor Dumbledore.

_Professor Dumbledore Sir._

_Sir, I have done a horrible thing._

_In the fall when I looked in your pensieve and you caught me and forgave me I fear you should have punished me severely. In fact I wish you had. If you had hit me or hexed me I would perhaps have not been so horrid as I have been._

_I have betrayed your trust and the trust of Professor Snape. I looked in Professor Snape’s pensieve._

_I will gladly submit to whatever retribution the Professor sees fit._

_You have been too kind to me and I have run away with myself. I cannot be sorry enough. For a creature such as I to be permitted among your students and to be treated to such wonderful meals and accommodation as you have been giving me is heady._

_I beg to be allowed to purchase him a new pensieve and to be permitted to be available for whatever punishment he should wish to inflict upon my person._

_Our occulomancy lessons have, of course, ceased._

_I am a miserable creature and you have placed me among these boys. I have begun to believe I am one of them. I am sure Professor Snape is entitled to be the one to put me back in my proper frame of mind._

_Thank you for all that you have allowed me to do. I try so hard to be,_

_Harry James Potter._

Snape brushed crumbs from his fingertips and onto his plate. This letter too had a very contrite feel. He knew that were he acting in character as the Greasy Git he would have been obliged to feel distain for the letter writer and to look forward to the opportunity for vindication. 

Severus, however, did not. The letter confused him. He let his eyes roll down it while he drained his cup. His eyes ran across the words, “too kind” and “miserable creature”. He closed his eyes. How to interpret these words? Harry seems to feel as though he is completely other than his year mates.

"wait a moment." He thought, "Hadn’t Noddy just said those very words?"

Could young Mr. Potter really feel this subservient? 

Why would he react to Snape this way?

He stood and swiftly moved back to the pull rope and gave it a tug.

“Good morning sir” Noddy bowed low again. He stood straight and peered around the professor toward the tray.

“Noddy, why do you apologize to me the way you do to me? Do you speak this way to all of the professors?” Snape asked sitting down to better examine the small servant.

He wanted to see if there were any connection between the behavior of this elf and that of his little imp.

“Well sir,” Noddy said, rocking on his feet with his hands clasped behind his back. “Noddy is seeing that you are a very exacting man sir. Professor Snape longs for control sir. Not getting his right breakfast could be very bad sir.” He finished this last almost as a question.

“I do not require that my every dietary whim be fulfilled that I may feel in control Noddy.” Severus explained. 

The house elf nodded. “We is trying to do what we can to increase the order in Professor Snape’s rooms. We is wanting the Professor to be able to breath sir.”

He peered at the elf a little longer.

“How do you know that control and order are important to me Noddy?” He was unwilling to use the words need or long for here. Was his difficulty in remaining an island so long becoming obvious? This little fellow had so easily read him.

“House elves is able to smell some of your emotions sir. We is trained to sniff out our master’s wants and needs sir.” The house elf blushed here. 

“With you sir we must be especially alert. You is a very hard read sir.”

“You can smell how others feel, what they think?” The professor queried. A light was beginning to dawn in his mind.

“Yes sir. With wizards it is normally very exact sir. With Muggles it is mostly feelings we can smell sir. You is hard to sir, because Sir is often convincing his self to feel that which he doesn’t feel sir.” Here the little elf nodded his head rapidly many times in a row. 

“Thank you Noddy.” Professor Snape said as he back on his chair. 

He closed his eyes once again. “Smell how we feel.” He pondered. That would explained why the boy was so exacting of himself in lessons with Snape. Why the professor made him so very nervous. 

Was the boy picking up his desperate need for control and order just like the house elves? Did he feel the underlying thread of possessiveness and need Severus felt for him? 

He came to a sudden decision. “The boy has read Dumbledore’s need for him to be our savior.” He said to himself. “I need to see the headmaster.”


	9. Professor Snape Examined in a Visit

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

****Chapter 9: Professor Snape Examined in a Visit**

Resolved to this action Hogwarts resident potions master scooped up Harry’s letters from his desk and strode to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmaster’s study.

Professor Snape walked up the revolving steps to the door of the headmaster’s office as they lifted him to his destination. He never waited passively for the stairs to carry him to the top. He knocked and was admitted without delay.

“Ah, Good Morning Severus. How do you do?” The headmaster looked up attentively, he always managed to look pleased to see his dungeon dwelling professor.

“Good Morning Headmaster” The potions master replied. “I find myself feeling the need to ask boon.” He grimaced somewhat; sometimes asking Albus for a favor was like telling Poppy you wanted a checkup. You would be thoroughly examined before either one were through.

Albus folded his hands on his desk before him and gestured for his spy to take a seat.

Snape deposited the scrolls onto the headmaster’s desk as he seated himself in a cushy chintz armchair. “These letters are from young Mr. Potter.” He said indicating the letters he had just read.

“Indeed?” The headmaster picked up the now loosely rolled parchments and read each in turn. He laid them down on his desk sighed and looked up at the younger man across from him.

Professor Snape noted that Dumbledore had done with the letters.

“Albus, is your Mr. Potter a magical creature?” He came right out and asked. 

Albus looked surprised at the questions and looked back down at the missives before him. His eyebrows came together.

“No.” Albus said.

Severus took a little breath. “With all due respect sir, is that an unconditional ‘no’ or an ‘I don’t know?’”

“You are correct Severus, I don’t know. What makes you think that he is not merely a powerful wizard?” Albus asked. Severus sometimes had brilliant insights. He was rather sensitive to change and subtleties, and of course very observant.

“But he really doesn’t seem that powerful does he?” Severus corrected. “It is almost as though he were reluctant to use his magic, as though it is something he has borrowed and can only use so many times before he must give it back.” 

Albus nodded thoughtfully at this point.

“I think he masks his intelligence too.” Severus said tentatively. 

When Albus raised his eyebrows Severus asked, “Have you ever looked over his library reading list?” 

Albus shook his head. Sometimes silence was the best way to interrogate young Snape he thought.

“I don’t even see how he could have read it all.” Severus expounded. 

“The library keeps a magical record of what books are read by whom. I don’t mean Madam Pince’s list. According to that he has only taken a handful of books out in the past 5 years. The most at once being on occulomancy when you told him he needed to learn it from me. 

“I mean the library’s list. Harry rarely takes books out of the library the formal way. He seems to read them while he is in there. He has read nearly all of the books in the defense, potions, charms, herbology, transfiguration and mind magic areas. He seems to just be skimming history, astronomy and runes. He has ignored divination rather firmly.”

Severus had scooted forward in his chair, formality forgotten for the moment. He scanned the letters upside-down and pointed out several lines to his superior. 

“Why does he not feel like other boys? Why does he refer to his name as though it were an alias?” Severus queried.

“I don’t know Severus. We shall need to ask Harry these things.” Albus looked back down at the letters. “I shall be sure to meet with him in September. I have been beginning to have the feeling that his relatives do not treat him the way they should.

“What makes you use the word creature? More importantly, what makes Harry use it? These questions are important to me too Severus.” Albus assured the obviously agitated young man before him.

“I think the boy is empathic.” Severus stated. He pointed out how in the letters their student had attempted to meet each of their separate unspoken needs. “I have realized that he is as in tune with the hidden parts of you and I as the house elves are. I asked Noddy about it and he explained to me that he could smell how I felt and some of my needs and desires.

“I think that Harry can smell emotions just like a house elf and that his empathic and over sensitive state should allow him to tap into the raw magic the rest of us can’t even sense.

“I think those Muggles have trained him like the house elves train their young. Not to use his empathy and sensitivity in order to increase his magical ability by tapping into the elements and tuning himself to the flow of energy, but to use it to serve them and camouflage his potential.” Severus expounded.

“What exactly do you think he is?” Albus asked when Severus seemed to have run down. Really when he wasn’t on the suppressor potion Professor Snape was as relentless about finding things out as Miss Granger.

“A Shefro.” The potions master said somewhat unsurely.

Head master Dumbledore laughed. “Don’t you think Madam Pomfrey would have noticed his wings?” He asked.

Snape sat back and straightened. “I thought she kept her patients information confidential?” He asked somewhat stiffly.

Dumbledore sighed. “She does Severus, if the patient is of age, but Harry is one year and one month shy of being of age.”

Severus narrowed his eyes, “But she wouldn’t report any anomalies to you, she would have reported them to the Muggles. Am I correct?”

“Yes, but his roommates and team players would have noticed them in the locker room. Wings are not something a Hogwarts student could keep secret.” Albus said this firmly, but it belied the growing uneasiness he felt.

Professor Dumbledore was beginning to see Professor Snape’s point. There was something odd about how Harry blended in with the rest of the population of the school. He always managed NOT to stand out. 

How excited the boy had been when he discovered that no one but him would be able to read his OWL results. They would be delivered in the second week of August, when he was at the Weasley home and if he wished it, the spelled parchment would only be viewable by those who had a right to see the results.

“I am going to pick him up from the Dursley home on the day after his birthday. I wish him to come and help me convince Professor Slughorne to return to the school. I need to research the man’s memories and he is being reluctant.” Albus stated.

Professor Snape nodded, but he looked concerned. “Certainly the little Imp could convince him to come, but really Albus if something is going wrong in that house, waiting all the way until the first of August seems too long.”

“Severus if you hate Harry so very much, why is it you are so concerned, and how is it you know his birthday and his reading list?” Albus asked gently. He knew that his Potions Professor was a very private, but deeply emotional man.

The potions master took a breath and thought back over the conversation. He had exposed his over active interest in young Mr. Potter a number of times. He sighed. No time to confess like the present.

Albus watched as his young friend’s face went blank. ‘He’s deciding how much to tell me.’ He realized. 

He watched as Severus’ face became mobile once again and regret, fear and deep longing crossed it.

“I’m sick.” The younger professor whispered. “Oh, gods Albus.” 

Severus Snape crumbled momentarily and then straightened. “I would never hurt him I swear.” He stated firmly meeting Dumbledore’s eyes. He was surprised to see, not anger, but concern.

Albus stood and came around his desk. He took the chintz chair next to the potion master’s place.

“How exactly do you feel for Harry?” Dumbledore asked neutrally.

“I’m obsessed.” The answer was short and bitter. Snape was obviously disgusted with himself.

“Is your fascination purely physical?” He asked doubtfully. He knew his youngest professor to be very frugal in his sexual attachments. 

Professor Snape looked shocked. “No.” He stated firmly. “I’m not that sick. But I feel a desperate need to know where Mr. Potter is and how he is. I am haunted by fantasies of taking his hand in mine to guide him, or drawing him into my arms to protect him.”

“The feeling is fatherly then?” Dumbledore queried.

“No.” Again Snape’s answer was firm. “No I definitely feel romantically for the boy.” He knew he was telling too much. Coming off the suppressor potion was always like this. His emotions were impossible to hide. His thoughts leapt to his lips. 

“Oh, Albus forgive me,” Snape prayed. “I love him.” He whispered. 

Dumbledore gripped Snape’s shoulder. He knew that the release period for the emotion suppressor potion Severus had created was not yet over and that the younger professor was in a similar state to one dosed with Veritaserum. The difference being that instead of spill out thoughts and deeds, his young friend couldn’t stop expressing his emotions.

“Severus, my first wife and I were the same age as you and Harry are now when I discovered I was in love with her.” Albus revealed. “I kept how I felt carefully hidden from those I knew wouldn’t understand. When she turned 16 I begged her parents to allow a formal courtship. Until she passed away we were inseparable.”

“It’s not like Potter would accept my suit” Severus stated dejectedly.

“That is not the issue my boy. I take issue with your guilt. There is no reason for you to be ashamed of loving this young man. I am sure you are not the only one. Just know that if he returns your feelings this ritual will not allow anything untoward to occur between you that others could question. It is a sure guard against censure.

“Formal courtship is an ancient custom still used in many pureblood families. It will allow you a year to see if a spirit bond can be achieved before your magic tries to tie you physically.”

“I think my spirit has already spoken.” Severus admitted quietly. He was beginning to feel better already. Just not having to hide his love for the boy from one person was relieving. Finding that Albus was not repulsed was encouraging. He swung the topic back around to his little lion.

“You feel confident that Harry is well until August 1st?”

“He is quite safe Severus.” Albus stated confidently, bond magic and complex warding magic were Professor Dumbledore’s specialty.

“The blood wards wouldn’t work if Petunia didn’t care for Harry. Their relationship as aunt and nephew is too distant for the wards to stand otherwise. If she hated him for example, they would crumble.”

“And are they firm?” Severus had to ask.

“They are. Their current strength is impossible without a formidable emotional bond. The only other way to gain such strength with a second generation relative is to perform a blood tie ritual, which I did not do, and as Lily’s death was rather sudden, she did not have opportunity to perform one either.”

“But his subservience…?” Severus began.

“I think you may be overreacting because of the combination of your feelings for the young man and the release from the suppressor.” Dumbledore said.

“After we are finished all our year end tasks and you are settled at Spinners End, come pay me a visit and we will talk over Harry’s safety again.” Albus advised.

“Agreed.” Snape conceded as he rose to take his leave.

“I’ll see you at lunch in the teachers lounge?” Dumbledore asked.

“Certainly.” Snape said with one hand on the doorknob.

Albus smiled inquisitively at the anticipatory tone of his normally taciturn Professor.

“Seafood chowder.” He said simply. It was the potion master’s favorite dish, served at his request.

“Ah, yes.” Albus said as the revelation sunk in. 

“Happy Birthday Severus.” He stood again and shook his young friend by the hand before seeing him out.

“Thank you sir.” Severus replied, one corner of his mouth turned up in his quirky smile as the door closed between them.


	10. A Visit with the Dursleys

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

**** Chapter 10 A Visit with the Dursleys**

Harry had rearranged his cupboard so that his trunk’s hinged back was against the wall opposite the door. This had two benefits. First it meant that Harry could lie out flat beside the trunk and stretch both hands above his head to relieve his strained muscles. The second was that is gave him the ability to open the trunk while he was still in the cupboard. 

Any of his dorm mates wouldn’t be able to stand up straight in his cupboard, but Harry could stand up in front of his trunk and pull it slightly out from the wall open it and dig through it. He was digging through it now, looking for the last piece of the mirror from Sirius he had thrown into the bottom this past spring, when he was so very upset. He found it and put it on a horizontal piece of wood that was between two studs to his left. 

The board was probably there to add strength and stability to the wall, but Harry had long been using it as a shelf. Back when he there had been a cot in his cupboard, rather than a trunk he had put his glasses and his broken watch on it when he went to sleep at night. Now that he slept on the floor he merely put them between the two studs by his head. Harry preferred to sleep curled up rather than stretched out so he had made his school robes into a little nest at the base of his trunk. 

It was to this nest he carried the piece of mirror once he had closed his trunk and slid it back against the wall.

The other pieces of the mirror were arranged on top of some strips of duct tape. Harry added this last piece and looked at himself in the spider-webbed mirror. He looked at his nose from the left and then again from the right. It was definitely broken and definitely crooked. 

He got up again and got a black sock from his trunk. Black was definitely best for this kind of procedure. He knelt in the midst of the nest with the shattered mirror braced against the wall. He looked again at the nose and said quietly, “You can do it Harry. Just because you’re a fag, doesn’t mean you’re a ponce. You saw Madam Pomfrey do it twice.”

He put one end of the sock in his mouth as a gag and stretched the top out in his fingers across his nose to the corners of his eyes. He ran his fingers down the bone between his eyes to the cartilage he knew was misaligned. He could feel where it wasn’t seated right. 

Harry braced himself, made sure the sock was covering his nose in case it sprayed some blood and then he pulled sharply. He saw stars, but he held on to the cartilage and settled it back where it should be. Then he took a tiny strip of the tape and stretched it across his nose where he knew the break was. There. Now it would heal straight.

He looked in the mirror again and saw his abused nose was red and a bit swollen, but it was straight nonetheless.

“There see, you did it.” He told the Harry in the mirror. He heard Petunia coming down the stairs and went to kneel by the door.

She rapped on the door, presumably to wake him and then unlocked and opened it.

She said, “Bangers and mashed.” And then continued into the kitchen and seated herself at the table. 

Harry filled the kettle at the sink and put it on to boil. Then he began to peel potatoes. By the time the kettle boiled he had the potatoes peeled and half of them chopped. He heated the teapot by swirling a little of the boiling water in it. Then he dropped in two teaspoons of leaf tea, poured until it was full and covered it with the cosy, glancing up at the clock.

By the time the tea was steeped he had the potatoes on to boil and had started the sausages. 

He brought Petunia’s cup and saucer over to her before setting the rest of the table. He doctored her first cup for her and set it at her right hand.

Harry had the breakfast ready to serve, drinks poured and everything set out perfectly when Petunia looked up from the gardening supplement that had come with the morning paper.

“Heel and kneel.” She commanded. 

Harry came to the left hand side of her chair and knelt beside it his body a perfect “L” as he awaited inspection.

She peered at his nose. “Look left.” She commanded again. And then “Look right.” 

“You set it yourself, boy?” She asked.

“Yes Ma’am. I know you hate to have to touch me Ma’am.” Harry told her.

“Of course I do.” She said lightly. “It is straight. Good boy.” 

Harry beamed at the compliment.

“Did your uncle do that or Dudley?” She asked.

“Uncle Vernon Ma’am.” Harry told her.

“Was it punishment boy?” She asked.

“No Ma’am, I think it was accidental. He was having a bit of fun Ma’am.” Harry was never sure how to talk about this without making his poor aunt sick.

Petunia nodded knowingly. Vernon liked to have a little of the rough with the boy.

“Did he enjoy himself?” She asked.

“Yes Ma’am. I sucked...” Harry began.

“No vulgarity from you slut.” She whispered dangerously.

“Sorry Ma’am. I performed fellatio for him. His reception was enthusiastic.”

“He used your mouth only?” She always needed to be certain. 

“And hands. He is never to use my anus or vagina, for these things are unclean and will spoil him for relations with normal people. I am an unnatural creature and giving Uncle Vernon his fun is never meant to pleasure me. It is the least I can do to provide him with an occasional bit of perverted fun.” Harry recited the rule back to her.

Petunia wrinkled her nose. “Who told you that hole is a vagina?” She asked with disgusted curiosity. 

Sometimes the thing before her was like a car crash. She just couldn’t help wanting to know.

“You did Ma’am” He replied.

“Well it isn’t. It’s not a proper one anyway. It isn’t on a girl and it doesn’t have menstrual cycles.” She said dismissively as she began to serve breakfast.

“It does Ma’am.” Harry confessed.

Petunia looked at the thing on her floor and allowed her curiosity full reign. “Tampons or Pads?” She asked not able to help herself.

“Tampons” Harry answered straightforwardly.

“Why?” She just had to know.

“I can cut the strings short and the boys at school would never notice.” He told her reassuringly.

“Better pray they don’t. Knees tight.” She reminded.

“Knees tight.” Harry affirmed. This was going very well. Most times it did. Some times he caught her off guard or used language that was too crude and was punished for being his uncle’s toy.

She picked up the unlabeled dog dish from the floor and scooped some fresh breakfast into in and setting it on the counter.

She reached into the cupboard and got down a piece of chocolate. 

Vernon came into the room whistling and kissed Petunia on the cheek before tucking in to the bangers and mashed Harry had made. 

He made appreciative noises. “Good breakfast Petunia.” He complimented.

She smiled and preened. “Thank you Vernon dear.” She simpered.

She poured his tea while leaning against him. 

“Was he a good boy last night?” She indicated Harry.

“Umm-hmm” he indicated with his mouth full. “He even cried prettily for me.” He said happily as he looked at Harry with a satisfied smile on his face.

Harry basked in Uncle Vernon’s pleasure and felt a strong urge to go and lie at the man’s feet. He suppressed it and stayed in his kneeling straight at attention position. 

Petunia walked back to the counter and took a knife from the drawer. 

She unwrapped the chocolate and applied the knife.

“One piece for setting your nose straight by yourself and another for crying pretty.” She said as she cut generous pieces. She stuck the pieces of chocolate into the breakfast so they were sticking up jauntily.

She set the bowl on the floor.

Harry didn’t move. He knew to stay put until told to eat.

His aunt cocked her head at him. She wanted to have some ladies in for tea to see Aunt Marge that afternoon.

“After you eat, you may shower, dress in clean clothes and go out and play. Home at four o’clock mind you. I want you to make those stuffed pork chops Aunt Marge enjoyed last summer.” She said.

“Yes Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am” Harry said. He had not hoped for so much freedom. He could go to the park and meet Hedwig. Get his letters. Write to Grigotts for Muggle money and by the time she was back he would have replies written to all his friends. Then in the afternoon he could go to the library and stop and the corner shop on the way home. If he was quick he could do it all.

Petunia snapped her fingers and pointed down at the bowl.

“Eat,” She commanded as she sat at the table to chat with Vernon while he finished up his breakfast.

Harry did just that and before she knew it he was cleaned up and gone over the back wall on his day of freedom.


	11. A talk about the Dursleys

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

**** Chapter 11: A talk about the Dursleys**

Ron Weasley sat at the breakfast table waiting on his breakfast. He was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. He was rubbing his face and trying valiantly to keep his eyes open.

“Did you have a nice lie in?” His mother asked over her shoulder from her position at the stove. She liked to indulge the boys their first few days back from school and let them have a long sleep. Her youngest boy, she knew, could sleep the clock right around. 

He was a little lazy, but she told herself that it was because he was growing so much. Her baby, Ron, was nearly 6 feet tall. He was taller than all his older brothers already. Charlie was next in height at 5 foot eleven inches. She herself was short and stout, but she found herself glad that all her boys were tall and slender.

She shoveled a generous portion of eggs and bacon onto Ron’s plate and put a pile of toast beside it.

“What have you got planned today son?” She asked as she flicked her wand in the direction of the washing up so it would do itself.

“I dunno.” He replied. He was too tired to think of something important that he needed to do to keep her from suggesting some chore.

“Well Ginny was talking about going over to Ottery St. Catchpole after lunch and seeing if there’s anything doing. I reckon she was just afraid I would give her gardening to do.”

“If she does go I’ll tag along with her.” Ron said. 

“Well, any time you’re bored, the garden does need a bit of work.” She said.

“Really mum, we just got home.” He said.

Mrs. Weasley heard an owl land on the post by the door.

She brought the letter back and sat at the table to open it.

“It’s from the Grangers.” She said.

Ron sat up, suddenly awake, “Is it about Hermione?” He asked grabbing for the parchment.

Mrs. Weasley pulled the parchment away sharply, but looked amused rather than annoyed.

“It is addressed to me.” She said. “And it looks to be about Harry.” 

She looked at Ron’s confused face. “Here, I’ll read it to you.” She relented.

_Dear Mrs. Weasley_

_My husband and I wanted to write you. Our Hermione is quite disturbed about she and Ronald’s friend Harry. At first we didn’t think much of Hermione’s worry, but as we listened to her observations of the boy, we think perhaps some one had better have a look at him._

_Hermione insists that Harry, for one reason or another is suffering under a crushingly low self-esteem and that he may have taken his Godfather’s death rather hard._

_She said that when Mr. Black died Harry was heard to say that he had lost the only person who really knew what he was, but liked him anyway._

_My husband and I are concerned because we understand that you Wizarding folk may believe that insulting and ignoring children is commonplace among Muggle families, we would like to assure you that it is not._

_Apparently our Mio heard Harry’s aunt and uncle refer to him as filth. I myself have seen that his attire and belongings are very third rate. While this would be fitting in a family with limited resources, the rest of his family were dressed very well and they drove a rather expensive auto._

_Mio may be right. The boy may be being neglected. I have heard tales of bars on windows, locked rooms and a cat flap through which he had a single daily meal delivered. If true the boy is being horridly neglected, if not abused. I must stress that this is not normal Muggle behavior. We cherish our children as much as Wizarding people do._

_Please let me know if you can look into this for us. We are meant to be away for most of July and won’t be able to do it._

_Our heartfelt Thanks,_

_Mr. and Mrs. Norman Granger._

_PS Hermione insists that we add here that she thinks Harry is hiding. Please see if you can find out how different Harry is from the other boys and try to make him understand that it is good to be different._

She laid the letter down and looked at Ron. He was obviously lost in thought, so she let herself mull over the times they had had Harry under their roof. What had she seen of Harry?

He was shy certainly, but bold when he needed to be. It was he who asked her how to get through the barrier the first time they’d met. He’d been extremely polite every single time they’d spoken and was never loud or playful in the house. He was alway eager to help out in the kitchen and was at her side the instant she said she wanted help with something.

His table manners were bordering on bad during the first summer he’d spent with them. That was the summer of the flying Ford Angelina. Fred and George had spoken of bars, and of locks. Was it true that Muggles didn’t normally lock up their children?

“Ronald.” She said bringing her son out of his reverie.

“Mum, I think Hermione might be right. Maybe they aren’t just sort of neglecting Harry. Maybe they are really mean to him.”

“Do you remember anything unusual?” She asked sharply. Fetching a parchment and quill to make notes on. “Anything other than the bars and locks and cat flap.” I’ve got those already.” She gestured at the page.

“Um…one of the twins, or maybe both, went down to the first floor with Harry to get his stuff. It was all locked in a closet or cupboard under the stairs. They said it looked as though someone had been living in the cupboard. And he was wearing something around his neck. Looked like a tiny belt or dog collar. He took it off and laid it very carefully on the desk. Muggle fashion statement I reckoned.” 

“Anything else dear?” His mother pressed. “You lived together all year. Maybe something from the dorm room?”

“Oh, yeah. He used to have nightmares. We would hear him call out and if you moved the curtains of his bed to look at him he would curl up into a ball and whimper that he was sorry.

“That was only first year though, so I figured he was home sick. I had a nightmare or two m’self about coming home and finding you’d all gone, or that the house was gone and nothing left but a hole in the ground.” Ron confessed. 

"We didn't hear any nightmares after that, even when he said he dreamed of you-know-who we didn't ever hear him stir. Er...of course we learned privacy charms at the end of first year, so I guess that doesn't mean much." Ron said.

His mother nodded. He may have had nightmares everynight, but the silencing charms worked very well with the curtained school beds.

“What about physically dear. Other than being small. Anything strange about Harry?” She obviously wanted a lot of facts, but Ron was not the best at details.

“Yeah. Harry is real small, and skinny too. Under his clothes in September he looked like a skeleton. I figured must be all the exercise. He’s small all over…” Ron went crimson and giggled.

“Oh Ron” Mrs. Wesley blushed too. “You shouldn’t laugh. Maybe he’s a late bloomer. A lot of boys don’t get more sizable genitals until puberty.” She couldn’t help a little giggle herself.

“Harry’s well into puberty mum he got (giggle) hair, you know, before any of the rest of us. Doesn’t shave his face though.” Ron had sobered at this point. 

“Wait. I think I remember. This is a little embarrassing mum, but I think it’s the sort of thing Hermione meant.

“We lads were all in the showers and fooling around. I was being a bit of a git because Seamus said I had a big di- (cough) sorry mum, penis. I was strutting a bit and the others were kind of comparing. 

“Dean asked Harry how much he figured he had and Harry was sitting on the bench with his shirt in his lap. Harry is really body shy. He had his knees tucked together tight sitting on the bench.

“He’d turned white instead of red. The rest of us were flushed and kind of half embarrassed. But Harry, he looked scared. I instantly felt terrible. I knew Harry didn’t like being looked at. I felt like I should go over and hug him on the shoulder like Fred does when Harry looks a bit lost, but then if he was feeling shy, that might be the wrong thing to do.

“Harry lifted his shirt and looked in his lap. We all looked. It was really small mum. I would say only three or four inches. We were all sorry to have brought it up.

“Harry broke the tension himself when he said ‘get me a magnifying glass and I’ll measure it.’” 

“The other’s had a bit of a laugh and Harry pulled his shirt on over his head and the moment was gone. He didn’t look scared anymore, but he did look relived. If I was in a locker room full of blokes laughing at how small my penis was I would have been mad or embarrassed, not relieved. He looked almost as though he had gotten away with something.

“Is that strange enough?” Ron asked. He still felt too embarrassed to look right at his mum so he watched her hand on the parchment. 

“Why did he put his shirt on first if he was hiding something below the belt?” Ron’s mother gave a vague wave.

“Oh,” Ron said dismissively. “Harry always covers the scars on his back.” He shrugged and got up to get more milk.

Mrs. Weasley stood and pushed Ron back into his seat taking the glass from his hands.

“What scars on his back?” She asked anxiously.

“I think they’re from an accident or something. When I asked him about how he got them he said, ‘by being an unnaturally stupid little freak.’ It was the third or fourth day of school.”

“Describe them please.” She asked as she handed Ron the milk.

Ron closed his eyes and pictured the scars he’s seen regularly.

“Some go up and down his back and some side to side.” He described.

“Where do they begin and end? What shape do they take?” She asked. 

“The up and down ones run from his shoulder to his butt, just below the hip. They kind of curve out on the ends and make a really long “C”. They are about an inch or so wide and smooth. They never fade and are always a silvery white. They might be from Muggle surgery. They are so even and regular.

“The scars that run across are like rungs on a ladder, but not so evenly spaced. Most of those are fading away, but I guess bigger scars don’t fade as fast as little ones.

“It looks sort of like a ladder that is bigger at the top and bottom and had a lot of little steps.” He concluded.

Mrs. Weasley got Ron to draw the scars and then questioned him a little more. She fire called Fred and George and heard about the cat flap, the locks on the bedroom door and on the door of the cupboard downstairs. 

When they told her how white Harry had turned when he heard his Uncle coming and that the man had been carrying his belt in his hand looking to brandish it like a weapon she felt she had enough evidence to warrant insisting on having The-boy-who-lived over so she could examine him herself. 

'Now to get Dumbledore to agree', she thought as she went fireplace to make an appointment with the man.


	12. Professor Dumbledore is Treated to a Talk

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

**** Chapter 12: Professor Dumbledore is Treated to a Talk**

Severus Snape had waited the apportioned period of time and was now preparing himself to meet with Albus at his home regarding one Harry Potter. 

The effects of purging the suppressor potion were passed and Voldemort had gone abroad with the usual sycophants in tow to lick his wounds after his losses at the Ministry in the spring. Snape himself had been saddled with Wormtail for the rest of the summer, but found himself capable of handling the dimwitted and cowardly death eater without the aid of his inventive potion.

He left his home on Spinners End late on a warm summer evening. On his front path he met Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy.

“Ah, the Black sisters. To what do I owe the honor?” 

Bellatrix caught hold of her sister and tried to prevent her from speaking to Snape.

They had a brief and whispered, but heated, conversation and Narcissa came forward.

“Do you know what task the dark Lord has charged my Draco with?” She asked uncertainly.

Holding this conversation on the front walk was seemingly driving Bellatrix further out of her mind. She tried to hush her sister while simultaneously attempting to drag Snape back toward his front door.

Severus thought for a moment and decided he’d better deal with Bellatrix first.

“If anyone is going to draw attention to our conversation Madam, it is you.” He drawled looking down his nose at the hand on his sleeve.

Bellatrix pulled her hand away and went back to her sister’s side. “You can’t trust him.” She whispered loudly. “He is in Dumbledore’s pocket.” She insisted.

“I am supposed to look like I am in Dumbledore’s pocket you fool. I am a spy.” Severus hissed at her.

“The rest of us went proudly to Azkaban for our Master. You were warm and safe at Hogwarts. You are Dumbledore’s lap dog.” She spat back.

“I was at the post The Dark Lord assigned me to. When he was reborn I brought him years of information on Dumbledore. What did you bring him?” Snape challenged.

Narcissa cut off her sister’s rebuttal. “I need you to watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes.” She begged Snape.

Snape ran his hands down his face and checked his watch. If he didn’t go soon he would miss his opportunity to speak to Dumbledore. If he had to choose between the welfare of Harry Potter and a junior death eater like Draco, he would choose Harry. He did, however, hope to drag Draco out of the fire along the way.

Decision made, Snape sighed.

“Narcissa.” He said gently. “Service to Our Lord is never safe. If Draco wishes to serve he must take the same risks the rest of us do.

“I wish I could prove your sister wrong and tell you that I am the most trusted of Our Master’s servants, but he tells each of us only what we need to know. I do not know what he wishes Draco to do, but I will attempt keep your son from harm.” He stated simply.

Narcissa stood on his front walk looking lost while her sister berated her for revealing as much as she had to Snape.

“Oh shut up Bella,” Narcissa finally snapped. “You don’t know what the task is either.”

She obviously didn’t dare reveal to either of them the secret that had been told her and so she slunk away into the night with her sister still trailing at her heels.

Severus straightened his jacket and walked quickly to the apparition point that lay in the opposite direction of that in which the two sisters had gone. It would add a few minutes time to his journey, but he hoped it would negate the chance that he would meet the two ladies again.

He apparated to a charming little Wizarding street in the heart of London. Albus Dumbledore’s front garden couldn’t have existed anywhere else. Severus opened the front gate himself and stepped under the arched lattice that framed the opening. Others might have been nervous about the Devil’s Snare that climbed up and over the top. Professor Snape noted though that the vine was flourishing in a location where the morning sun would have been powerfully bright, signifying that it was none other than Flitterbloom; Devil’s Snare’s non-violent, sunlight-loving cousin.

In the beds on either side were Honking Daffodils, that were past their prime at this time of year and weren’t terribly loud as a result. To the left of the door the Flutterby bush was waving gently as it prepared for night but the knotgrass was full of leaping toadstools that were playing leapfrog on either side of the walk. They were obviously enjoying the break from the heat that was found in the waning of the day.

Professor Snape pulled the cord on the front door to ring the bell. By his watch he was 15 minutes late, but he hoped Albus would not yet have turned in regardless of his early portkey tomorrow.

An oddly dressed little house elf greeted Severus and led him into a sitting room in the front of the house where none other than Mrs. Weasley was sitting across from Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. He paused in the doorway, unwilling to interrupt the woman were she there on order business or not.

“Do come in Severus.” Albus said sounding a little harassed.

“I am not finished with you yet Albus.” Molly said a little shrilly, thinking she was about to be dismissed.

“No indeed Molly.” Dumbledore sighed. “Actually I believe Professor Snape is here about the same person as you are.”

Mrs. Weasley looked up sharply. “What has Harry done to you now Severus?” She asked. Ronald and Ginny had both written her that Harry had done something to his potions professor that he felt terrible about, but wouldn’t reveal.

Severus waved a hand dismissively. “I am more concerned about Mr. Potter’s safety and sanity at the moment.”

Molly straightened herself as much as the cushy sofa allowed. “You see Albus.” She waved a hand in Snape’s direction. “Even Harry’s hardest professor doesn’t think everything is all right.” 

Her voice rose again with indignation. “He is a boy, not a weapon, or a soldier. You keep talking about his being kept in a safe place as though he were a tool you had need of or money you were waiting to spend.”

“Albus Please.” Molly pleaded. “Let us just have him a little early. Why are they so determined to have him for his birthday? It’s not like they celebrate it.”

Her handkerchief was being twisted mercilessly in her lap.

Severus watched her through these speeches and realized that this woman cared for the little lion as though he were one of her own brood.

He sat on the loudly upholstered settee next to her and took her hands in an oddly tender gesture. He hoped she was the solution to his problem of where to put Potter were he not being properly cared for in his erstwhile home. He hoped he had found someone else who cared for the young man behind the scar. 

“Mr. Potter has written letters of apology on the aforementioned incident that have me questioning his care in that house. He refers to himself as a creature several times.” Severus Began.

Dumbledore sat back wearily. “The wards would not exist were he not cared for there.”

Both his tone and expression told Severus he had been on this tack for some time with Mrs. Weasley. 

“But if he is a Shefro and not a regular wizard, they would have no idea how to care for him.” Snape protested

“You have no proof Severus and he is not an infant.” Albus said sternly. 

“I need to see him to get the proof and Shefro are sensitive their entire lives, not just as infants Albus.” Snape insisted. 

He turned to the motherly woman beside him. “Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Potter owes me a pensieve and I believe he needs permission to go shopping, perhaps if I picked him up from his relatives, say on the morrow or the day after, he and I could meet with you and your husband for lunch. I would like him to explain a few things to me. If we feel certain he is safe we can send him home after supper.”

“I don’t think-” Albus began, but he was cut off.

“Oh that would be splendid Severus, but come to the burrow for lunch. I’ll clear all the children out and please call me Molly.” She was looking much cheerier now.

“Severus I didn’t think you were going to take that new pensieve Mr. Potter offered to purchase you.” Albus objected.

“I intended to show him how to keep his own with it actually. I think his past bears looking over.” Severus revealed.

“Severus-

“Albus-”

“I think that I should handle the matter when I return. I’m sure he’s well enough until then.” Albus hedged. He really was rather concerned, but couldn’t see how his schedule could be rearranged to get time with Harry in there. “After all I placed him there. It really should be me-”

“No Headmaster.” Said the potions master firmly. “Molly and I will take care of it. You must take care of your order business abroad and come back just before Potter’s birthday. If all is as it should be with the boy, we’ll send him back after supper and leave him there until August first when you get him, if not, I shall alert Remus and between the four of us, five with Mr. Potter, we shall decide upon our best course of action.”

“I can see that neither of you is willing to let this go.” Albus resigned. 

“No.” They both said at once.

“Very well. Severus, be sure to write the Dursleys and let them know you are coming. I will write their Muggle address out for you. Please be discrete.” Albus advised.

“Of course. I am a very good Muggle when I need to be.” Severus said to Albus. While the old man wrote the younger turned to the Weasley matron. “I shall likely pick him up on Tuesday morning as it is rather late for me to rent a car tonight. Muggle organizations tend to shut up around now.” He explained.

“Very good.” She said. “I am certain Arthur can be there Tuesday for lunch. He works late Mondays in order to take the weekend pressure off and often takes a half day Tuesday.” 

“Oh Severus. This is really very good of you.” Molly squeezed his hands. She scuttled round the coffee table and pulled Albus Dumbledore into a hug. “We’ll get it sorted out, you’ll see.” She said and bustled out. 

“Goodnight Albus, Goodnight Severus” She called on her way out the door.

Severus leaned back into the sofa and crossed his legs.

“You look smug.” Albus commented as he passed the paper to his young friend.

Severus tipped his hand back and forth. “More like satisfied. Do you have a few more minutes?” He asked hopefully.

“Indeed.” Albus poured himself more tea.

“Bellatrix and Narcissa came to see me tonight.” Severus cast scourgify on Molly’s cup and refilled it.

“Oh my” Albus expressed his regrets.

“As if having Pettigrew there weren’t enough.” Snape sighed with a grimace. “They are concerned about some task that has been allotted to Draco. I will reread my houseguest when I get home and see if his tiny mind can’t shed some light, but I fear young Mr. Malfoy may have staked his allegiance.”

Albus stroked his beard. “I sensed last year that his power as a prefect had rather gone to his head and that Umbridge woman did nothing to help matters.” 

“Can you see any course of action?” the younger man asked.

“Is Draco abroad with Voldemort?” Albus watched Snape jerk at his use of the name.

“Yes” Severus nodded. “He will return at the end of August.”

“We’ll just have to keep in mind that he bears watching.” Albus shook his head.

“Yes.” The potions master agreed. He stood and shook Headmaster Dumbledore by the hand. “Goodnight sir, and good journey.”

“Good Night my boy.” Albus replied.


	13. Professor Snape carries out his plan.

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee.

** Chapter 13: In which Professor Snape carries out his plan.

Severus Snape in a black Muggle suit, complete with tie was an impressive thing. The girl at the counter of the car rental company certainly thought so. Snape himself always found this particular suit got him looks from the young ladies. He figured that he might as well have at least one persona that looked respectable.

If he weren’t gay, he would have enjoyed the attention immensely. As it was though, the drooling of the little twit who handed him back his credit card, along with the keys to the car he had rented, was slightly off putting. 

Snape toyed with the idea of offering her the use of his handkerchief to wipe up the desk, but decided it was too melodramatic, even for him.

He found the blue sedan of which he was the temporary owner and stowed his bag in the boot. The bag contained his Wizarding attire and accoutrements. It was slightly heavy with potions. Behind his back Minerva and Albus had joked that Severus was a walking apothecary. 

He adjusted the seat to his tall frame and made himself familiar with the car. On the dashboard was the trip map he had requested. Severus looked over the route he meant to take and set out.

Privet drive was to Severus' mind a pleasant little place. The place the likes of which he liked to think all Muggles lived, a Muggle sanatorium of sorts. It was pretty in a generic, boring kind of way. There was nothing of the exotic to be seen about the place. He parked in the drive of number 4b in front of the big garage door and walked up the front porch and rang the bell.

It was exactly 8:30 am by his watch. Early for some, but the boy had assured him he was an early riser. He had planned for an hour for the car ride and then time in the shop along with some time to show the lad how to use the pensieve. This would put them comfortably at the Weasley's for 11:30.

A horsy faced woman answered the door. She peered at him through a little curtain that covered the window in the center of the door. At first she had been glaring, but once her scarce eyebrows had risen in surprise and she had processed mentally that her caller was a gentleman and in a suit at that, she had opened the door and most politely greeted her caller with, “Good Morning sir, can I help you?”

“Would you be Petunia Dursley Madam?” Snape asked.

“I am.” She replied with some dawning suspicion. How did he know her name?

“I am professor Snape. I am here to collect Mr. Potter.” He told her.

For a moment she couldn’t seem to understand him. His attire and his request were seemingly at odds. When she came to understand whom he was and whom he was here to collect her expression changed in a most marked manner. Her lip drew up in a sneer and her eyes narrowed.

“The boy is at the park waiting for you.” She gestured in the direction of a patch of greenery beyond the end of the street.

“We don’t want your lot here. Drop him at the park when you return him.” She ordered closing the door in his face.

To say that Snape was surprised was an understatement. Muggles as a rule were generally more polite than that to him, weren’t they? He gave an uncharacteristic shrug and returned to his car to drive in search of the-boy-who-lived. 

‘Just like a Potter to make me drive about looking for him.’ He thought automatically. Then he shook his head. That was his school persona talking. If he meant to find out anything about the boy, he would have to clear out his _keep Potter at arm’s length_ propaganda. He would have to adopt a _wait and see_ attitude if he wanted to learn anything real about the petit Gryffindor lion.

To further his new device in his quest for deeper insight into his quarry Severus sat beside the park for a moment watching the playground and one Mr. Potter in particular.

Harry sat on a bench by the climbing equipment. There were no other children there so early in the morning. He had been told in a letter to expect professor Snape at 8:30. He guessed it must be about that time now. He glanced at his broken wristwatch and wished he could use his wand to cast a _reparo_. Thought for a bit about the exact incantation for watch repairing and decided that perhaps the Latin for time and teller like _vicis dico reparo_ might be correct. 

He closed his eyes and pictured the Latin textbook he’d seen in the library the day before yesterday. He rubbed the piece of tape on his nose and then decided he’d got the spellings correct in his mind. He opened his eyes and whispered out how he thought the words might be pronounced.

Snape watched the-boy-who-lived as he sat on the park bench. The boy was dressed in raggedy jean shorts and a tee shirt that hung off one shoulder. He looked tired Snape noted. He was swinging one foot idly and one could see alternately the top of the grayed canvas shoe, tied with black laces and the bottom, which was off white with a curious black dot in the center of the sole. He looked to be deep in thought and maybe even talking to himself.

“ _vicis dico reparo_ ” Harry whispered gazing off into space. Latin was very hard. He really needed a Latin tutor if he was going to ever do more than just perform spells he had just memorized, but that others had come up with. 

The lad seemed pale and slightly listless to Snape, yet his back was straight with his head tilted down showing Severus only the top of his messy head, the hinge of his glasses that was closest to the car and a hint of his little nose. Perhaps because the potions master’s nose was prominent and hooked he rather liked that Harry’s nose was small and straight. 

Harry glanced at the broken watch again to find that the little second hand was dutifully going around. He really got a shock. He’d never had a working watch on his wrist. He watched the way the little dial went around for a moment before somethingt occurred to him.

Snape was distracted from watching his little imp by a light beginning to flash on the dashboard of the rental vehicle. He bent forward slightly to look at it. 'It is a clock' the suited man’s brain supplied. 

“Decided to work have you?” Snape asked the little blinking numbers. He looked at his pocket watch and set the clock accordingly. “Let’s see if you can keep it up,” He challenged the Muggle contraption. 

“Oh no. I did magic.” Young Potter said to himself. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. He wasn’t meant to do magic that wasn’t related to school. According to the wizards he wasn’t meant to do it at all during the summer. He hoped he was far enough away from the house to not have triggered the wards. He looked up the street half expecting to see an owl winging its way toward number 4 Privet Dr. 

They’d let him go to meet professor Snape and get a new pensieve for him, one uncontaminated by a freakish creature putting his nose in it. Oh, he had been very bad, very bad indeed.

Severus looked back up towards Harry in time to see the boy’s face go though a myriad of changes. Shock was followed rapidly by regret, trepidation, fear and then shame. His green eyes were looking back toward his erstwhile home. After a moment of seemingly intense worry and regret, the eyes panned across front of the park and then tracked back to the vehicle again.

When the little imp stood from the bench his demeanor had been completely overhauled. Snape watched as the desolate little figure he had been spying on transformed into Mr. Harry Potter. The boy now appeared confident, but formal and a bit rigid. “Ah, so you are in classroom mode, are you? Very well Mr. Potter.” Severus said quietly to the interior of the car.

Harry approached the car half way between the front and back seats waiting to see which door his professor unlocked for him. When Snape unlocked the front door for him the young man opened it, dropped a backpack on the floor and slid onto the seat.

“Good Morning sir. I take it you got my owl. Thank you for fetching me at the park. The Dursleys are afraid of magic.” This was said a bit nervously, but it was obviously a prepared speech as it wasn’t full of the usual ers and ums that Harry normally came out with.

“Good Morning Mr. Potter.” Snape said neutrally. 

He considered saying, “I got no owl, your aunt told me where to find you, and I wouldn’t say that fear was the emotion she was displaying,” but for once he held his tongue.

His discretion was to no avail though, because just at the moment he was going to start the car and be off, Hedwig made a rather ungraceful landing on the hood of the car.

They were both startled. Severus' hand was instantly on his wand. Harry had swiveled in his seat to face the bird; his breath left him as he prepared to take a blow. After a moment the shock passed and they both inhaled deeply and got out of their respective sides of the car. 

Harry held his arm out akimbo and called Hedwig somewhat frantically.

She launched herself instead for Snape’s shoulder where she perched on one leg, holding the other out to him.

Snape realized that the bird was still carrying the letter his passenger had mentioned. He was watching Harry with some interest. He noted the anxiety with which the boy was looking from the scratched hood of the car to his potions master. He decided that it would be best to see what came out of Potter before he relieved the owl of her message.

He stood passively while Harry rounded the front of the car. All the while he could see that the boy was frantically thinking what to say. He had completely lost his earlier eloquence. This was Harry with his masks discarded. This was the boy who lurked beneath the surface of the boy who lived.

“Oh, Sir…so sorry…please…I can fix it…the car that is…look I just need to think…please don’t…she was just…please…the letter…don’t…” Harry had his hands held out in front of him in a completely submissive and plaintive manner, but seemed unable to make a single sentence, as there were several erupting at once from his mouth.

Here Severus realized the boy thought his owl was going to be harmed for having scratched the paint. He kept his face absolutely neutral and nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging way. 

Harry took a breath and then continued in his verbal outpouring.

“Thank you sir. Oh…um…let’s see… _obductio_ …that won’t do, that’s cover…um…just” Here the lad’s eyes zipped back and forth as though he was reading a text. “Um paint. No…it should be…colouring…maybe…yes… _colo…colui…cultum?”_

_“Colui”_ Snape provided.

“Thank you sir. _Colui reparo_ ” Harry incanted as he hovered a hand over the hood of the car. “There…fixed.”

If Snape was expecting this to stop Harry worrying he was wrong.

“I am so sorry sir. Please sir, she’s really very good, she just wanted to take you a note-” Harry had begun again with his breathless apology, but stopped as Snape held up a hand.

“Hush.” Snape said. He was surprised at the young man’s instant obedience and passivity.

He untied the letter from Hedwig’s leg and read.

_Dear Professor Snape_

_Sir, my aunt has requested that you pick me up at the park down the road from her home._

_Being Muggle she is a little frightened of Wizards. I am terribly sorry to put you out and appreciate that as well as having the onerous task of accompanying me I must make this strange request._

_It is just through a little alley beyond the end of Privet Drive. It leads to Magnolia crescent where Arabella Figg lives. She is a squib, but has a floo connection I am certain she would allow you to use._

_I am very grateful for the chance to get you a pensieve that is not contaminated._

_Ask and I shall obey._

_Just Harry_

“This is the aforementioned letter?” Snape asked looking over the top of the page and down at the top of the little lion’s head.

“Yes sir.” With his face still lowered.

“I see.” Snape wasn’t sure what to deal with first. Perhaps he should just accept Harry as he was, and wait until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had served lunch before begining any interrogation.

Severus expertly shrugged Hedwig further down his arm and swung her in through his open door to perch her on the back of the bench seat between where the two of them would sit.

He leaned over an inspected the repair job. "Good job Potter." He said sincerely, still looking down at the now flawless paint.. The young man had figured the incantation there on the spot.

“Shall we sally forth?” He asked lightly looking up.

“Thank you sir. Yes please sir” Harry's face still slightly averted, but it was clearly flushed with pleasure at the compliment and he was peeking through his lashes and bangs at this nice version of Professor Snape.

The potions master turned away and surveyed the street behind them before getting back behind the wheel. That one shy look had nearly overmastered his heart completely. Was this an act too, or was the boy really that sweet?

 

Author note:

Merry Christmas, Happy Yule, Joyous Chanukah and Happy Chinese New Year (Quan Za?). I hope you are celebrating whatever you like to celebrate however you like to celebrate it. 

This will be the last update until December 27th.

Thanks for reading.  
Sly Stir


	14. Harry has a Car Ride.

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

**Chapter 14: In which Harry has a Car Ride.**

Severus turned back to the car and slid behind the wheel. Hedwig was preening herself perched on the seat by his left shoulder. Harry was sitting in the passenger seat; he was buckled up with his feet on his backpack and his hands clasped in his lap looking like he was trying to take up as little room as possible. The upright, almost prim posture was incongruous with the raggedy shorts and sloppy tee shirt.

Snape took the flip map from the dash and flipped through the route to the leaky cauldron. The trip should take something over an hour. He had chosen to drive, assuming that having been brought up with Muggles Harry would be more comfortable in a car than using the floo or side along apparition. He stared at the last map, the one that showed the last bit of their route in London as he contemplated the silence beside him. 

They had been on the road for 10 minutes when the silence began to eat at the potion’s master. He had expected at least a bit of chatter. The boy was a teenager after all. How to open a conversation with him? How to pry without pressing? 

“About your letter…” He trailed off.

“Yes sir?” Harry asked in a whispery voice.

“You indicated your Aunt was scared of wizards, but when I was there she didn’t act frightened at all. Care to explain?” Snape asked.

“Well sir, I imagine, I bet, oh, was she very hostile with you?” Harry asked breathily. 

“Yes rather. She seemed to resent me being there to get you.” Severus made his reply as gentle as he could, but he did make it sound like a statement he would like to have confirmed. The boy’s voice seemed to indicate that he found the subject difficult, but still Snape needed to know.

“She doesn’t like anyone to know that I live with them sir.” The younger man admitted. His distress was increasing.

“I see. How exactly does she feel about you?” He asked more bluntly looking more directly at Harry. He was looking out the far window, but his hands were clenched more tightly and his body radiated tension.

“Um…” Harry breathed audibly. “Depends on the day sir.”

“Today Potter.” Severus said firmly.

“Er…well she rather hated me when she roused me…um…over breakfast she was more disgusted, but as I was leaving she was very confusingly both relieved and resentful that I was going out…all at once.” Harry labored greatly over these sentences. As though he was ashamed of what he was saying. He also sounded as though he was physically laboring. 

His professor was watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he continued to remain turned away, until the potions master said.

“Look at me Harry.”

Taking a moment to study Harry, Severus found a verge and pulled over. Alarmed he turned then and studied the boy more closely. To say that young Mr. Potter was pale would be a gross understatement. He was the color of parchment with black streaks under his eyes and a very red mouth. His nostrils were dilated. His eyes showed both strain and curiosity.

“Is something wrong sir?” He breathed out.

“I was about to ask you the same thing Potter. You look positively ill.” Severus remarked.

“Sorry sir…never sat in the front seat…I’m sorry…just don’t ride well. Only been in a car 14 times, well this makes 15…always make me feel funny. Strange that brooms don’t…. sorry.” Harry’s mouth snapped shut at the end of this speech. He realized that he had been erupting verbally.

Severus cocked his head to the side, got out of the car and rummaged in the boot. He found his potion bag and spare cloak and went around to the passenger side of the car. 

“Into the back.” He directed Harry throwing the cloak in. Once the boy crawled in he leaned into the car and instructed Harry to lie down. “Bunch up that cloak for a pillow.” He said. He got in beside the boy’s canvas runners and perched on the seat with his bag in his lap.

As he was looking through the bag Harry was examining his face and smelling his mood. His professor was not angry, which was good, but he was worried, probably about the time, the petit Gryffindor thought. 

Professor Snape pulled a potion out of the bag and measured a small amount into the cap. 

“Drink this.” He said passing the cap to Harry. “It will make you drowsy, but it will relieve the nausea.”

He tipped the potion into his mouth; careful not to touch the cap with his lips, then handed it back to the potions master. 

“Thank you sir. Sorry sir.” He licked his lips noting the ginger and cardamom. He was already feeling drowsy. He began to mumble. “Ginger root…settles the stomach…cardamom pods activate the essence of murtlap, but why use it? Isn’t it an unguent? Wouldn’t it be better to use black root?” 

“I was out of black root, furthermore if the stomach upset is due to injury the murtlap will help it heal. Why do you have tape on your nose?” Severus had been dying to ask this and was fairly sure he wouldn’t get a straight answer before, but drowsy Harry seemed to say whatever was on his mind. What a surprise to find that there was a mind hiding behind those pretty eyes.

“It’s broken.” Harry murmured. 

“Ah.” Snape replied, although he didn’t understand why a Muggle would put tape on a broken nose. “Well, better drink some skele-gro.” He measured out a tiny tincture. “Just a touch. It’s only a little nose.” He reassured.

“Yeah…not regal like yours.” Harry sounded almost as though he would like to change with Snape. 

Severus scoffed. “This” he pointed at his own nose “is not a nose, it’s a beak. I am Severus Stork.” He said with mock royalty.

Hedwig choose that moment to let out a quiet hoot. Snape turned to her regally and inclined his head. “Pleased to meet you madam” he said in an overly snooty voice holding out his knuckle for her to nip. She did so.

Harry giggled. The stomach remedy was making him drowsy and a bit silly. Rather like having too much butter-beer. “You’re not mad at all.” He commented after he poured the potion into his mouth.

“No, but tell me how did your nose get broken?” Severus asked conversationally. 

“I was fooling around with my uncle and he broke it.” Harry admitted reddening.

“Fooling around? He was not angry? He did not hit you?” Severus asked straightforwardly.

“No sir. He didn’t hit me.” Harry replied. “More my clumsiness and awkwardness really.” Harry’s eyes were drooping and he turned his head into the cloak. It smelled good. The whole car smelled safe, like professor Snape had been worried about him and would take care of him. _‘The potion must be strong’,_ Harry thought.

Severus nodded, but his brows came together. When had the boy ever been awkward? He tried to think back. Harry had never had a big growth spurt like his best friend Mr. Weasley, or young Mr. Malfoy. He hadn’t gone through a gangly clumsy stage. The boy had the grace of a cat; in the air he was like a swallow, where others often were more like crows. 

The young man curled into a loose ball on the back seat. His professor cast cushioning and restraining charms on him to keep him safe in his reclined position and returned to his post behind the wheel.

The rest of the drive Severus occupied himself with making a list of the things he wanted to Harry to tell him. He soon found that he had eaten up the miles to London and was pulling in front of the Leaky Cauldron. He turned in his seat and found that Hedwig was perched on Harry’s upper arm and looked as though she’d just wakened. She tipped her head at the driver, seemingly thanking him for the ride and nipped Harry’s ear.

Harry shrugged her off his arm, sat up, removed his glasses and rubbed his face.   
He looked out the window and noted that they were at the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to Diagon Alley, the best street of shops in the whole of Wizarding England. He blinked a few times.

“How do you feel?” Snape asked.

“Very well, thank you.” The young man’s eyebrows came together over his green eyes. He could still smell the concern radiating from his professor.

“May I change sir? I have more appropriate clothes in my bag.” He indicated the backpack in the front seat. 

Severus hooked the strap of the bag and lifted it over the seat. 

“I also wish to change.” Snape said. He went to the boot to retrieve his clothing bag and got back into the car. 

Harry had pulled his dress robes over his head and had wiggled out of his tee shirt and shorts. Severus had merely removed his jacket, tie and dress shirt and was buttoning his robe overtop his trousers.

He looked into the back seat when Harry asked, “Should I bring my wand sir?” 

“You should never be without it. Weren’t the dementors last summer enough of a lesson for you? I thought you had a back holster under your shirt?” was the reply he got.

“Huh? I mean…sorry sir…what’s a back holster?”

Severus continued to button while he explained. “When wizards are going to be among Muggles and need to wear short sleeves they wear a wand holder that keeps their wand on their back like so.” He demonstrated by pulling his wand out of his sleeve and holding it parallel with his spine.

“Ah…thank you sir. No my wand was in my backpack.” Harry said dismissively. “Do you have a holster that keeps it on your arm sir?”

“Yes, I do.” Severus pulled up his left sleeve to show Harry the makeshift wand harness on his arm. He could see that his student wished to see it. “You can buy nicer ones, but this one works just fine.” He said a little self-consciously. 

“Did you make it?” Harry asked. When Snape nodded he said, “It’s nice.” He reached out to touch it. “Is it comfort…sorry sir?” His head dipped down and pulled his hand back.

Professor Snape had an air of curiosity and interest today; the same air that Ron had possessed. It had made Harry feel that he could be open with him. It was a genuine interest in whom he was and what he had to say. It made it very easy for Harry to forget his place. 

“What are you sorry about Harry?” Severus asked.

Harry looked up though his lashes and bangs. “I ask too many questions and I almost touched you. I’m horrid today.” He finished sadly.

“You are not horrid and this is a fine time for questions. There are times when questions would be inappropriate, but this is not one of them.” Snape instructed. 

“Yes it is comfortable. I made it to measure. If you bought one in a shop you could have it made to measure too, but as I don’t present my left forearm to very many people…well you can see the problem.” At this Snape eyed his arm.

Harry looked at it too. The dark mark was under the holster.

“Were you proud of it sir? The morsmordre? When you first got it I mean.” Harry asked sensing his professor needed to talk about the mark, but was reluctance to open the subject.

Snape’s face settled into a somewhat sour expression. “Indeed I was. I thought I had joined a very exclusive club. A club where we, the elite, would guide the Wizarding world into a new millennium of prestige.” He snorted then. 

“It turned out that we were meant to be the Dark Lord’s stooges. There was nothing special about killing people, even in the name of the noblest of causes. We are his followers and his fools.” He finished sadly.

“I’m glad you’re on our side now.” Harry fished around in his bag for his wand and slid it into the pocket of his robes.

“Hmm…Harry, did you say your wand was in your bag?”

“Yes sir” The young man answered.

“You fixed the paint on the hood of the car with your wand in your bag?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah…I got lucky. Sometimes when I do stuff without the wand the result is kind of over the top…you know…like trying to levitate something, but you get all the furniture in the room dancing around the ceiling. Happened when I first started trying to do wandless. I read about it and was practicing…wow…what a mess…when I cancelled the spell…broken furniture…Professor McGonagall was really angry.” Harry shuddered here, secretly Snape agreed. “Twins took the blame though. Said it was a joke gone wrong.”

“You use your wand to direct and limit your magic?” Snape kept his voice neutral and tried to keep the skepticism from his mind. 

“I guess…minimize and focus. Rather like sunlight though my glasses right? I can make fire right where I want it by using the lens as a pointer.” He stopped and looked at his professor. “That’s weird isn’t it?” He sounded downhearted.

“Not weird Harry, different, better and more powerful. I use my wand to increase my magic. To make it do more than it really can on its own. I can do a few simple things without my wand, but to do more I must use it as a resonator. It thrums in time with my magic causing it to reach out and affect the world around me.” Snape explained.

Harry looked lost in thought. He was trying valiantly to place the feeling coming off his professor now, but he couldn’t do it. The man was usually impossible to read because the emotions that normally came off of him were so subtle; now he was loud, but not so clear. He almost seemed to be proud of Harry, but worried about him at the same time.

“Are you ready sir?” He asked still at a loss.

“Yes, but Harry do me a favor.” Snape looked down his nose at the boy who lived.

“Yes sir?” Said boy answered nervously.

“Take the tape off your nose.” Snape smiled.


	15. Harry buys a Pensieve.

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

Note: Sorry my update is one day late. I have a nasty cold. I'm going back to bed now. Please enjoy.

**Chapter 15: In which Harry buys a Pensieve.**

 

As they entered the Leaky Cauldron Severus saw that they had avoided having to pass through a crowd of people to reach the back alley where they could enter Diagon Alley and the shops it contained. He had hoped, by arriving between breakfast and lunch, this would be the case.

Harry paused in the doorway. He seemed a mite nervous and his taller companion urged him forward with a hand on his shoulder, thumb resting on his spine below his neckline. The younger man kept his bearing erect, but his head was slightly lowered as though to watch his footing, and he had shaken his hair into his face.

The potions master soon saw his mistake. Without a crowd around them, every patron had observed their entrance, and while there were not many of them, all of their eyes were riveted on the tousled head in front of him.

An elderly witch was the first to actually approach them, where others merely pointed and whispered. She cut in front of them, causing them to slow and tipped her head down to peer beneath the fringe of hair to confirm her suspicions. She then said loudly, “Why, Harry Potter, as I live and breath.”

She brought her hand up and rested it above her ample bosom as if to still her heart. She reached out the other toward Harry as though to take his hand. Severus, who still had hold of Harry’s shoulder, could feel the boy shake slightly before he reached out and shook the lady’s hand.

“I believed you all along boy. I knew that evil wizard was back, and you showed up the minister real good, didn’t you. Oh, wait until the girls hear. I don’t suppose you’d sign an autograph?” She rattled this off while pumping Harry’s hand in an excited manner. The others were now leaving their seats and approaching.

“I…Uh…Nice to…Um…Your name madam?” Harry stumbled over his words.

She had produced a quill and a piece of parchment from somewhere and was trying to press them into her subject’s unwilling hands.

“Oh…” She giggled, “It’s not for me. It’s for my Granddaughter. She’s such a fan. Her name is Miranda. Oh…She’ll be delighted. What luck.” 

Severus felt a jolt of magic run through him and he saw a table near him give a little shake. _’Oh, was the boy doing that?’_ He toyed with the idea of just letting it go to see how it played out, but instead he leaned forward and stooped slightly to murmur “Hush” beside Harry’s head.

The result was instantaneous. Harry calmed and squared his shoulders, then he pushed away the parchment and quill. 

“What is your name Madam?” He asked again, but clearly this time.

“Harbuckle, Susan Harbuckle.” She answered proudly.

Severus was half surprised to find out it wasn’t Miranda Harbuckle after all.

The boy used the pause to think about how to deal with these people in a manner that would serve Professor Dumbledore’s _‘Harry Potter’_ agenda, but would not be too trying for Professor Snape. He did his best to compromise.

He took the lady’s hand again and shook it firmly saying, “Ms. Harbuckle…nice to meet you…pleased to find that there were people who believed all along. I would take the time to meet and talk to all of the people who are going to support us against Voldemort, but today I am here at this kind gentleman’s leisure and I believe that courtesy dictates that I should hurry along.”

Of course the uttering of the word Voldemort, more than the logical plea that he ought to be on his way, cleared a path for them and they carried on, out the back and through the brick wall to Diagon Alley beyond.

Despite the complete lack of grammar at the beginning of his student’s escape speech, Severus was pleasantly surprised by the eloquence that had eventually sprung forth.

There at the end of Diagon Alley the Wizarding world saw a miracle. Professor Snape, the great greasy bat, complimented a student, for the second time in one day, before lunch. 

Snape stopped Harry by slightly increasing the pressure on his shoulder and spun the smaller man to face him with a mere flex of his fingers. It was incredible how biddable this version of the boy who lived was. 

“Well done Potter.” Was all he said, but the young man lit up just the same. He was fairly glowing when he dipped his head down, and brought his shoulders up. nearly vibrating in his pleasure. He looked as though he were fighting the urge to hug himself with happiness.

“Thank you sir.” He said gratefully.

Snape nodded. “Gringotts?” He asked.

“Yes sir,” was the confirmation.

The younger man was unsure if he was meant to take the lead, but when he saw a shooing motion and a nod from his professor Harry made a beeline for Gringotts to withdraw enough money for the best pensieve he had seen in the catalogues he had examined before leaving Hogwarts.

He was pleased that his professor would choose his own. If he hadn’t, Harry had intended to purchase one for him anyway and have it delivered to Hogwarts. This was better really, as it was to hold the man’s thoughts it ought to hold some personal charm or attraction.

They made it through the bank with a minimum of fuss, as celebrities do not impress goblins much. They turned back past Madam Malkin’s and Flourish and Blott’s to the tiny magical instruments shop beside the owl emporium. 

Harry led the way into the shop and paused slightly when the door seemingly announced their arrival rather rudely by saying, “One professor with a runt Dorian.” 

Harry saw as the door closed that a little shrunken head, like the one’s that warded The Three Broomsticks to keep out underage wizards on certain occasions. He was rather amused by the little things, but wondered if they were really heads, or if like chocolate frogs, they were only objects charmed to behave that way.

The proprietor, presumably Dorian, bustled up from the back and peered at his prospective customers after reprimanding the door guard by saying “Manners” rather sternly in its direction.

Snape nudged Harry forward once again. 

“Good Morning Sir.” Harry said haltingly. “I am…that is…we are…umm…a pensieve please sir.” He finished rather lamely. He was having a terrible time being Potteresque today. 

Severus was confusing himself. Half of him wanted to chide the boy for being so shy, the other half dearly wanted to reassure the younger man and guide him though the transaction. 

Dorian seemed to understand. Indeed the substance of the words seemed much more important to him than the skill with which they were delivered. He led them to the back of the shop where he had several on display for them to look at. 

One was identical to the pensieve that Harry had invaded twice. The one that most caught Harry’s eye was of a dark lustrous stone and the runes were carved into the rim in deep bas-relief. He thought this one would appeal to Professor Snape. It approached the color of his eyes in some spots, but was deeply variegated Marble and had some spots that almost looked jade green. 

“Do you like this one Professor?” He indicated the dark bowl.

“It’s nice Potter. What made you look at that one?” He asked, leadingly.

“I think it is Verde Guatemala sir…from Italy...some spots in it remind me of your eyes sir.” Harry said the last bit of this to the floor.

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows wondering if that meant the boy thought it was ugly enough to suit him. He reminded himself that young Mr. Potter was here to make up a supposed wrong to him, and as such likely would not insult him. He also reminded himself that by all evidence Harry was rather shy and sweet.

“Indeed. And what is Verde Guatemala Potter?”

“Marble…from Italy…I think…I could be…It had reflective qualities…helps you focus your thoughts…not that you need…I didn’t mean-“

Again Harry had gone into overload. He thought he had somehow offended Snape and was seemingly waiting for the Greasy Git to swoop down on him for vengeance.

“Hush boy.” Snape said gently. “It is beautiful, but a mite expensive. Don’t you like this granite one here?” He indicated one that was half the price.

“Um…well you should pick sir, but the Ghiandone Aswan granite from Egypt is not nearly so…you pick sir.” Harry said in a more relaxed way.

“The boy knows his stone!” The proprietor said.

Harry flushed and examined his right toe, which had made an escape seemingly through both his sock and his canvas shoe.

“The boy wants this one.” Snape indicated the darker marble stone bowl. “Will you wrap it up and throw in a couple of bottles of pensieve fluid please? I haven’t time to make any.” 

Once the proprietor had taken the basin away to wrap it, the professor turned to his student and said, “Where did you learn so much about stone? Is it your uncle’s trade?”

“I read it in _‘Runes For All wizards’_ by Erick Desman. He includes kinds of stone and pictures so you can see them. Some stones are better for some runes than others…” He trailed off, not sure of his reception.

“How many times did you read the book?” Severus asked curiously.

“Once sir” Harry said. 

Severus raised his eyebrows. The boy had remembered the properties of different stones and their appearance. He _was_ hiding his intelligence then.

“I see, and the basin you chose?” Severus asked Harry to reiterate.

“Is made of Verde Guatemala. It comes from Italy. It has some reflective qualities and helps clarify thoughts and feelings. It increases the user’s focus. When used for runes of understanding and insight it will enhance the power of the rune by correcting the focus of the user.” The boy instructed. 

“Do you think that it increases the amount of magic the user is putting through the stone, or do you figure it works better because the user is thinking more clearly?” He mused. “In either case it was great stone to use for a pensieve!” Harry finally concluded.

“Well, you’ll enjoy owning it.” Snape told the boy smiling.

“Huh…it’s for you sir!” Harry objected.

“Don’t say huh. It doesn’t mean anything and it’s rude.” Severus sighed. “You said you would submit to any punishment, did you not Mr. Potter?” 

“Yes sir.” Harry replied firmly. He was ready to take a beating, but slightly nervous. Uncle Vernon had hit him pretty hard a few times and Aunt Petunia had been something else with a belt when he was younger and not so well trained, but Professor Snape was an imposing figure. 

“Very well then.” Professor Snape said. He had been going to pay for the pensieve himself and give it to Harry, but seeing the piles of Galleons in the boy’s vault he now intended to have the lad pay for the pensieve himself.

The punishment would be for his student to sit for the rest of the morning in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron learning how to use it. He hoped that not only would it teach Harry more about learning from what he saw, but that by reviewing the contents together it would make the younger man feel more open with him. 

He knew that at the age Harry was, a frontal confrontation about the chafing around Harry’s neck and the fact that he looked fatigued and thinner than when he had left school wasn’t going to get him results. Snape needed to do something to go from a familiar forbidding figure to a familiar reliable figure. So far it was going easier than he would have thought.

Severus shook himself from his thoughts. “Go and pay the man and then we’ll talk punishment.” He told the boy.

“Yes sir.” Harry started away but turned back with his bottom lip between his teeth. “Sir, punishing me publicly might embarrass you. I cry and mark rather easily. Especially when I know I’ve done wrong.”

With that information delivered Harry turned away and marched up to the counter to pay.

A short while later they were ensconced in a more private alcove of the leaky cauldron. They had managed to come back in from Diagon Alley virtually unobserved. 

Professor Snape had ordered them a pot of tea. Now that they had dispensed with the waitress and all the bustle of getting settled Harry began to get nervous. He fidgeted with his spoon and napkin lining them up and then rearranging them again. Severus observed him for a moment and then said, “It is time.”

Harry froze and looked up at Snape expectantly.

“How do you want me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” Snape asked back.

“Well, do you want me standing, kneeling, leant over the table?” Harry asked rather wide-eyed. He was accustomed to being told very firmly what position to take for punishment.

“What are you expecting me to do Harry?” Snape asked levelly. He was being very careful to show neither scorn nor lightheartedness. He wanted to know Harry’s true expectations.

The young man looked him over. He seemed strangely comfortable now. This was familiar territory. “Well I suppose it’s either your belt or you are going to curse me. You’ve only got your belt or your wand as you aren’t likely to want to touch me with your hands.” He mused

“So for a belting you would either want me standing or leaned, right?” He was unconsciously relaxing his muscles and getting ready to submit to the punishment, but he didn’t move yet waiting to be told what to do.

“I take it your relatives use corporal punishment?” Snape asked

“Yes sir.” Harry conceded. “Best way to train an animal.” He replied simply.

This was what Snape was going for. The boy thought that he knew something he didn’t. The question was how far could he push it before his subject figured out that he didn’t have a clue.

“I didn’t have anything quite so crude in mind. I thought that since your offence was committed in front of a pensieve, so your punishment should also be meted out.” Snape said.

“I see sir.” Harry said, although he didn’t. He was, after all, in front of a Pensieve, so Professor Snape should just flog him there and get it over with. 

He left off thinking about it though as his professor began to instruct him on how to fill the pensieve with the thought retaining fluid and what incantations to say. He also showed him how to empty the pensieve, how to fish out a memory into a bottle and how to get it out of the bottle and into the pensieve and how to put it back in his mind again. Harry was very sure how to use the basin before him, as well as the theory behind how it worked, before his teacher was done.

“And now, refill the Pensieve and then I will tell you what memory to choose that we may view together and see how new details, you didn’t first notice, can be picked up on a second viewing.” Professor Snape instructed.

Harry refilled the bowl, said the incantation to activate the fluid and held his wand at the ready. “Ready sir” He said.

Snape had debated having Harry show him his most embarrassing moment, but that was a little silly. In truth, the memories of James Potter acting a bully weren’t in the pensieve to keep Snape from being humiliated, but to keep Harry from becoming disillusioned about his father.

Now he was considering asking to see how the boy was punished at home. To witness one of these applications of the belt Harry had thought he was in for. That seemed tawdry though, and might just cause some damage. A traumatic experience seen from another angle would likely be just as distressing as having belted him then and there.

He had debated the whole time young Potter was preparing the pensieve and now he had to decide.

“I want you to choose a memory Harry, one that you regret, but that is not traumatic for you. I want to see something of your Muggle world too if I may.” He decided to leave it basically up to his student. He would not betray this young man’s trust, nor disrespect his privacy. Dumbledore, and Snape, were both firm on that rule. No matter how noble the cause seemed; he would not enter another’s mind without their permission. What he needed to know he needed to find out honestly, without trickery or subterfuge.

Once Harry fished out the memory and deposited it in the basin he nodded and together they entered the liquid of the memory below.

Snape looked around the room and found that he was in some sort of snake museum. He could see the little glass enclosures where the Muggles had tried to recreate the natural environs of their captives. There was a fat boy banging against the glass of one enclosure and when he moved on Snape saw a tiny version of Harry step up to the glass and speak to its inhabitant.

Together they stood and watched all that transpired in the reptile house on Dudley’s eleventh birthday. Snape watched the young Harry as he happily waved goodbye to the exiting snake.

He felt the upward pull that indicated that the memory was over.

Harry looked sad and a little out of sorts.

“All right Mr. Potter. Now, why that particular memory it you please?” Professor Snape asked.

“Well sir, that is the first time I used my magic to make a really big mistake.” 

Here Harry stopped and contemplated a bit. “I didn’t even know about magic yet. I just saw that the sign in the tank said, _‘raised in captivity’_ and all I could think was that he deserved to be in his real natural environment and to go and see his home country.”

He shook his head at his own childishness. “I could sympathize with him, see. I think I felt a little like I was trapped and that I didn’t fit. If I could just find somewhere that I did fit I might not turn out so bad. I thought that I could help him.”

Professor Snape nodded, not seeing what Harry’s big regret was, but he was watching a growing sadness in the soulful green eyes.

“Did you see me? Sitting on the floor and waving to him like a little fool?” Harry asked bitterly.

“We were in London, a big city, on an Island. How was he going to get home?” He continued heatedly.

“Oh I’m sure he lived a while in the sewers eating rats and whatnot, but then in the winter where would he go? It’s not like he could just use the tunnel to France and then go south now is it? He’s dead…dead and I killed him.” Harry finished in a hoarse whisper.

Severus thought they might be talking about more than the snake now. Tears had welled up in Harry’s eyes and he was shaking with the effort of holding them back.

Professor Snape slid his hand across the table and laid it over young Potter’s much smaller fist.

“He could have stayed safe in the enclosure.” Snape agreed. “Indeed he would have grown quite old and fat there, but he was caged. It was not in his nature to want to stay safe and warm. He left safety of his own accord Harry. He chose to go out into London and face the dangers of the world. It was his decision Harry. All you did was facilitate it.” 

Then impulsively Snape stood and went around to the other side of the table. He slid onto the bench there and took hold of those bony shoulders again. This time he turned Harry toward him and hunched down to get level with those tear filled eyes.

“It’s alright to cry Harry. Go ahead and cry.” He told his student. 

The lad’s full black lashes covered his green eyes and spilt two tears, which streaked down pale cheeks. 

Professor Snape straightened, pulled the younger man toward him until a tousled head was resting just below his collarbone and then he lightly wrapped both arms around the fragile back to support his little lion as he cried.

The petit Gryffindor was nearly silent in his grief, but Severus’ hands flat against his back could feel the gasps of air being taken in and the sobs as they were breathed out in little staccato puffs of pain. After a while the breaths in became less shallow and left the small frame more slowly. 

Once Harry had been breathing normally for a few minutes Severus pulled him back to examine him, wiped his tear-streaked face with a napkin and performed a warming charm on his tea.

“Thank you sir, sorry sir.” Harry said, very softly and meekly.

“Do not be sorry Potter. Everyone cries, but know that I am here and you are welcome.” 

When Harry nodded somewhat amazed, Snape said more briskly “Drink that up” as he pushed the cup in front of his charge. 

Harry finished his tea and Snape checked his watch. 

“Fish your memory back out and go wash your face. It’s about time we went on to the Weasley’s for lunch.” 

“Yes sir.” Harry said.

He removed the tendril of memory and left for the men’s room. By the time he had returned his professor had packed up the pensieve and sent the teapot and cups floating back to the kitchen.

Severus led the way to the big fireplace in the center of the room and handed the floo powder down to Harry noting as he did that his charge would never be tall enough to get it down himself. 

He watched the lad into the fireplace and repeated as he took his turn, “The Burrow.”


	16. We Lunch at the Burrow

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

Note: Feeling much better. Thanks for the good wishes and the reviews. You folks are making me feel like you really like my story.

****Chapter 16: In Which We Lunch at the Burrow**

Severus stepped gracefully out of the fireplace at the burrow and over Harry who was sprawled on the hearthrug in a heap. He dropped to one knee and stood the boy up banishing the soot from his robes with a wave of his wand. 

“Thank you sir, sorry sir.” Harry mumbled. 

“No trouble. Tell me, do you always tumble out of the floo like that?” Professor Snape asked curiously.

“Yes sir, I’m clumsy” was the dismayed reply.

“But you are not clumsy Mr. Potter. That is the mystery. On a broom you are poetry in motion. How can it be that on your feet you are so off balance?” The potions master pressed. He was interrupted though by the entrance of Mrs. Weasley.

She embraced Harry and then held him out at arms length to examine him.

“Are those the dress robes I picked up for you before fourth year?” She asked amazed. “Have you got no bigger since then?” 

The young man shook his head at her, momentarily dismayed, but then he brightened and said, “It saves on buying new shoes and such though.”

“Those shoes need replacing regardless.” Snape commented as he turned toward the kitchen entrance and greeted Mr. Weasley as he came in. “Arthur”

“Severus” Mr. Weasley greeted as he entered and took the taller man’s hand. “How have you been keeping?”

“Well enough Arthur, well enough.” He answered as they seated themselves.

Molly made Harry show her his shoes and when she told him that professor Snape was right, he shrugged and said, “They’re still good.” 

She made disapproving noises and then waved him toward the table saying, “Will you set the table, Harry dear?”

He went to the cupboards and got down the plates, glasses and cutlery. He served the drinks also, giving Mrs. Weasley pumpkin juice and butter-beer for both of the men. Mrs. Weasley put out bowls of soup and then sat while Harry brought over the plate of sandwiches that had been under a cloth on the counter.

Harry set down the plate of sandwiches and then backed up to stand by the counter where he could see if they needed anything else. He looked at the plate of sandwiches and fought down his hunger by staring at his feet. When he looked back up all three people at the table were looking at him, and to his surprise none of them were Dursleys.

‘Oh bollix’ he thought. ‘I’m meant to be Potter.’ He rubbed his face and wished Aunt Petunia had given him some breakfast this morning. Hunger was making him stupid.

He sat down looking sheepish and reached a shaky hand to the sandwiches.

“So, Harry.” Mr. Weasley said casually while Mrs. Weasley and Professor Snape exchanged puzzled glances. “I understand you got yourself a Pensieve this morning?” 

“Yeah.” Harry said after he swallowed his first bite. “I thought I was meant to be buying a new one for Professor Snape. I’ve mucked his up.” He answered this with a quizzical look at his professor. 

Snape raised his eyebrows at his pupil. “I decided that your punishment for your curiosity should be to purchase your own Pensieve and learn how to use it, but that was something about your letter that I didn’t quite get Harry. What made you feel you needed to get _me_ a new one?”

“Well, I’d touched yours, like, you know.” Harry said evasively rolling his eyes toward the Weasley side of the table. 

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything Harry. Did you break it?” Mrs. Weasley asked curiously. “I know you did some thing you felt terrible about, dear and that it involved Professor Snape and your remedial potions lessons, but why did you think you needed to buy him one?”

Harry sighed internally as he chewed and eyed professor Snape. 

The professor for his part held up a hand to Mrs. Weasley. “Madam, Mr. Potter invaded my privacy by looking in my Pensieve.” When she nodded looking stern he went on. 

“I intercepted him, rather concerned, because some of my more violent memories of being a supposed _death eater_ were within. When I saw that all he’d gotten to was a few schoolboy memories, I sent him on his way, rather violently I might add.” At this he turned to Harry. “I think it was a jar of cockroaches that followed you to the floor was it not Mr. Potter.”

Harry had continued to eat, in his hunger, but nodded in affirmation. When he cleared his mouth. He said laughingly. “When I got Hermione to pick the glass out of my hair she came across one tangled up there. Gave her the willies.” 

Snape smirked at the momentary levity and then turned back to the Weasley’s.

“Harry feels that he has contaminated my pensieve by looking into it.” He stated. Nodding at their inquiring looks. “Indeed Harry feels that he is not as good as a regular Wizard. He did not report me, though I nearly threw him across the classroom. He bought this beautiful pensieve for me to make it up to me and he was ready to take a belting besides in order to feel properly punished.”

“You didn’t…” Mrs. Weasley began and then trailed off at the look on Snape’s face as he shook his head.

“The problem is that Harry is pretending to be something he is not when he is at school.” Snape said firmly. “And I believe he is damaging himself in doing so.”

“What exactly do you think that the _real_ Harry is then?” Mr. Weasley asked curiously.

“A Shefro or perhaps a different kind of Fay.” Snape said, stepping firmly out on a limb. 

Mr. Weasley stood and excused himself into the next room. Severus was not sure if he had excused himself to control his laughter, or his scorn, but he was still certain that young Mr. Potter was much more special than he was letting on.

“Miss Granger seems to think something similar.” Mrs. Weasley broke through the thoughts of the two dark haired men at her table.

Mr. Weasley returned not looking even remotely discomfited. He had brought a book on magical creatures with him and had his finger stuck in a page.

“Severus what led you to believe that Harry is a Shefro?” Mr. Weasley had opened the book at the proper page and had laid down a scrap of parchment with notes and a funny little diagram on it.

“The thing that made me settle on it was that Harry seems to smell out our emotions and expectations and act on them.” Snape began tentatively. 

When Molly didn’t retort or object, but nodded that she understood and was open to listening he continued.

“When he is with his fellow Gryffindors he behaves just how they would want him to. He is a proper Gryffindor Lion. When he is in the company of Professor Dumbledore he is the-boy-who-lived, hero extraordinaire. When he is with me, and only me he is respectful, humble, quiet and attentive. He is everything I have ever hoped a student to be.” Professor Snape sighed. 

He looked at his pupil and saw that he had begun to eat his soup and was trying very hard to appear to not be listening to them, but his left hand was balled up in his robes in his lap and his taunt muscles radiated tension.

“He seems to have been trained to believe that he is little more than a tool to those around him, but I think he fears the reactions of those whom he has hoodwinked with his acting skills.”

Molly looked at Arthur and nodded. After a few more letters back and forth with Hermione they had come to a similar, but not so definite conclusion themselves. Harry was not your average wizard by any stretch and something had been done to make him think he ought to hide it.

Mr. Weasley hunched down in his chair to get eye level with the diminutive man he thought of as an honorary Weasley. “Harry, I know you are listening to us.” He turned the book toward the young man and when the piercing green eyes looked up he pointed to the passage on Shefro.

“Is this what you are Harry? You needn’t be nervous lad. None of us will turn on you.” Arthur said in a gentle voice. It was the voice he’d used on his boys when they’d wakened from nightmares and on Ginny when she’s been afraid of not being good enough at school.

Harry read the passage in a glance, but pretended to take his time over it while he thought what to do. 

He’d known that despite his training with the Dursleys and his efforts at school he had somehow given the game away. He had revealed himself as a freak. He choked back his emotions. Whatever came, if they ostracized him, expelled him or imprisoned him, he deserved it. Hiding was one thing, but outright lying at this stage of the game would be very wrong.

“Yes sir. That sounds like me.” Harry admitted very quietly. He pushed away the soup and waited for the reaction to come.

When no one spoke he started to feel his stomach clench up. He’d eaten too much and was now allowing himself to get too upset.

“I think Sirius knew what I was.” He murmured sadly. “But I don’t thing Professors Lupin or Dumbledore suspect a thing.”

Molly had leaned over her husband’s shoulder was scanning the page.

“Harry, where are your wings?” She asked curiously.

Harry’s eyes went wide and his face flushed with embarrassment. Then he paled and lurched out of his chair and off to the washroom. He knelt in front of the toilet and tried desperately to try and keep down all he’d eaten. 

“Oh, don’t puke Harry you stupid freak.” He was saying to himself when he lost the battle and his stomach upended itself into the toilet. 

Professor Snape, who had stood vigil at the side of many a sick student, vied momentarily with Mrs. Weasley to get into the washroom and see to the-boy-who-lived. Eventually he lost and stood looking on while she rubbed soothing circles on Harry’s back and wiped his face with a cool cloth.

Mr. Weasley brought a glass of cold water from the kitchen. He passed it to Severus, who passed it to Molly who held it for Harry as he used it to rinse his mouth and spit into the bowl before flushing again.

Prone on the floor apologies sprung from the boy’s mouth and it was everything Snape could do to hold his position at the door and not rush in and scoop the boy into his arms.

The verbal river continued,“Oh…I’m sorry…all that wasted…how horrid…I’m sorry Mrs. Weasley…I just…how terrible…stupid…horrid…freaky…” but stopped when he could smell Professor Snape’s concern and his strong desire to comfort. It was this scent combined with the word “hush” that had issued from his mouth that gave Harry pause.

“It’s all right dear.” Molly soothed.

He was helped from the floor by Mrs. Weasley and led back into the kitchen where a piece of plain toast and cool pumpkin juice were pressed into his hands.

“He was nauseous on the car ride this morning.” Snape offered.

“Oh and here I stuffed him full of food and then questioned him. Poor dear.” Molly commiserated. 

“Shall I fetch a healer Madam?” Severus asked.

“They might take awhile to arrive, can he stay the night?” Molly replied, not even worrying over the expense of the house call.

Mr. Weasley put on his jacket and headed for the door. “I’ll apparate over to his relatives and let them know we’ll have him set right before we bring him back tomorrow. Severus, will you floo for a healer please.”

They were all acting as though they’d never seen anyone throw up before.

“I’m all right, really. I just ate to much.” Harry proclaimed.

They all stopped and Molly asked, “What did he eat in the alley Severus?” 

“Nothing, a cup of peppermint tea with a single cube of sugar was all he had.” Snape answered dismissively. “What did he just eat here? Three quarters of a sandwich and half a bowl of soup?”

“Less.” She answered looking doubtfully at the bowl of soup.

The two gentlemen continued on their way. Mr. Weasley hustled to the apparition point and Severus to the fireplace.

“Sit quietly dear.” Molly held her wand in Harry’s ear and recited the incantation required to take his temperature.

Severus was back at the table a moment later.

“The healer should come by around dinner time.” He said.

Molly nodded. The temperature, which she had expected to be high because of flue or virus turned out to be low instead. 

Severus reached over and pinched Harry’s ears and noted that they paled quickly and the blood did not return to them in good time. He picked up Harry’s hand and pressed on his fingertips watching while the dents slowly filled in.

“Molly he looks kind of anemic, here.” He demonstrated with Harry’s ear.

Harry meantime was reveling in the scent of professor Snape so close to him and the feeling of being prodded by the man, not clinically, as would be the case with Madam Pomfrey, or any other healer. This intense scrutiny was nerve wracking, but at the same time it caused a high that the little Gryffindor couldn’t explain. He felt light headed and though he’d drunk the tea and nibbled a bit of the toast he felt weak and sleepy. 

Snape showed Molly the young man’s hands and how there was liquid being retained under the surface of the skin. “And here he is retaining fluid.” He concluded.

“Why are you touching me?” Harry asked in a whispery voice. “I’m an animal. A disgusting freak?” He seemed on the verge of sleep.

Molly watched the color drain from Severus face leaving him a livid white. His eyes drifted closed and he was visibly containing his sadness. “Oh Harry. You are a marvelous creature. Do you not understand child? Your kind is to Wizards what we are to Muggles, far superior in sense and feeling.” 

The love in Severus voice was almost palpable to Mrs. Weasley when she heard him say gently, “You are no freak little one. You are exquisite.” 

As the potions master spoke Harry could smell the man’s acceptance of what his student was. He wrapped himself in the scent of his professor’s protectiveness. He hadn’t the strength to wonder at it; that would come later. 

For now he breathed in the care he heard and wrapped himself in it like a blanket. The scent grew stronger, more reassuring and Harry felt himself lifted in strong arms as a voice rumbled under his ear.

“Please Molly, where can I lie him down? Somewhere we can get him warm.”


	17. Mr. Weasley Comes to a Decision

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

**** Chapter 17 In Which Mr. Weasley Comes to a Decision.**

Arthur Weasley wasn’t much used to Muggle surroundings. He was intrigued by the ways in which Muggles got around their lack of magic and, thanks to the influence of Ron’s little friend Hermione, he could even understand much of Muggle life. He couldn’t mix in their world quite as fluidly as the crafty spy, Severus Snape, but he thought he might get by.

He had always viewed it as something of a treat to visit their foreign world and he had for a moment been anticipating the pleasure his little jaunt would bring. 

His excitement buoyed him up until he remembered that it was the debacle his last visit had become. The Dursleys might not be very welcoming after all. They looked like nice enough people and their home was lovely. He was sure that they were normally very gracious hosts. 

His last meeting with this family hadn’t been very pleasant. It had begun badly, what with having to break through their electric fireplace. Then their boy had eaten that Ton Tongue Toffee George, or was it Fred, had dropped on the floor. That had upset them a great deal. They had been very hostile indeed by the time he had set their son and their living room to rights and left. 

This was why, after apparating, he paused for a moment to put his thoughts in order. 

First he changed his robes, pleased that he would be as Muggle as possible. They were charmed robes that Fred and George had got him for Christmas. They could change from semi-formal Wizarding attire to semi-formal Muggle attire. He thought that they must have cost the boys a bundle, but George had said that a friend had whipped them up and they'd only had to pay for the two sets of clothes, so he wore them regularly and changed them often. He told Molly that it was a tribute to their successful business, but in truth, it was just plain fun. He had been looking forward to showing them off to Professor Snape.

Arthur spelled his hair flat down to his head the way Muggle men wore theirs and he put a suitably serious, but friendly look on his face. Serious enough that they would know no jokes were to be played on them, friendly enough that they would think him kindly and not likely to hurt them.

Once this was done he strode out of the walkway that separated Magnolia Crescent from Privet Drive and continued down to number four.

He rang the bell and heard a dog bark inside. ‘Had there been a dog last time?’ He asked himself. He hadn’t thought so. A young man who looked to Arthur like he had swallowed an engorgement potion opened the door. He knew this lad was some few weeks older than Harry, but he could not make sense of the differences in their sizes. 

“Dumbly Dursley?” He said to the boy holding out his hand for a handshake.

“Dudley.” The young man corrected rudely.

“Ah, Dudley. Arthur Weasley.” The red haired wizard introduced himself. He kept his hand out for a moment more and then when he realized that young Dursley wasn’t going to take it, he awkwardly dropped it down by his side. “May I speak to your mum or dad please?” 

His hand still on the door and indeed his body still facing it the big blond Muggle turned his head to the side and shouted “Mum” back into the house. That done he went back to examining Mr. Weasley. “You one of those church people?” He asked.

“Uh…no.” Arthur had just replied when Dudley opened the door wider so that his mother could come up alongside him to see who was at the door.

Petunia was drying her hands on a dishtowel and she peered at Arthur saying, “What ever you’re selling we don’t want it.” But she didn’t turn away.

“I am here about Harry.” Arthur said straightforwardly. Never did he think that such a simple statement would get such a profound reaction.

Dudley let go of the door and backed out of sight. Petunia grabbed the door and swung it closed until only her rawboned face was visible.

“He’s not here. I let him go with the other freak this morning. He is meant to meet you people at that park, not at this house.” She hissed and she began to push the door home. 

She was incensed. ‘How dare they come to my home? Two of them in one day,’ she thought. The audacity of it made her very angry.

Mr. Weasley managed to get his foot in the door before she closed it. 

“Madam, I am here because Harry is ill.” He wondered if this hostility was because of the toffee and wall incident. 

Petunia let go of the door and allowed it to fall open on its own steam. “What do you want me to do about it?” She asked dishtowel clenched in her hand. “I have a lot to do. I don’t have time for this.”

“Did you not hear me say that your nephew is ill?” He asked. 

“Don’t say nephew.” She snapped, looking around the neighborhood to see if anyone could hear him. “Yes fine. Get him in here and I’ll deal with him then.” She said glancing at the clock on the mantle and double-checking that none of the neighbors were in sight.

“Madam, my wife and I would just like to keep him overnight until he is feeling better…” He trailed off when the menacing glint in her eye that had been worrying him became an undisguised look of relief.

“Good…” She said. 

She was pleased that someone else would have to deal with Harry and his disgusting bouts of weakness. It seemed that whenever she was particularly tense and most wanted him to disappear the boy got faint and dizzy. He’s broken more than four plates fainting at the sink. She defiantly did not have time for that today.

“Er…” Mr. Weasley found himself at a momentary loss for words.

“When he is better, you bring him back,” She instructed decidedly beginning to close the door. She stopped and hissed out, “You take him to that park mind. Don’t you bring him _here_.” 

She closed the door then and Arthur found himself turning back toward the street.

So muddled was he that he sat down on the front step to think a moment. His first train of thought was to compare his loving generous Molly with the shrew that had just closed the door behind his back. He shuddered.

That train of thought was derailed by the image of any child growing up in her house. Then he pictured his Ginny or Ron living here. Ginny was far more sensitive than Ron. At times Harry seemed more sensitive than Ginny. Indeed, if he were a Shefro and could smell how people feel...he shuddered harder. The thought of Harry here brought him to a decision and strode back the direction from whence he had come.

He walked up to Arabella Figg’s door and knocked. 

She cracked the door holding a cat back with her foot. When she saw who her caller was she pushed the cat firmly out of the way and opened wide gesturing Mr. Weasley welcome.

“Arthur what is it?” She asked the smile fading from her face. “Is it Harry?” She added anxiously.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When he opened them an angry calm had replaced the storm that had been raging within their depths.

“I think there may be a problem with his current residence.” He almost smiled at how little information he had given away with out seeming to hedge. “May I use your floo?” He asked.

“Help yourself dear.” She said. “Just let me shut the cats in the bedroom. Circes knows where they would wind up.” She waved him toward the fireplace while digging in her apron pocket and withdrawing a little bottle.

As soon as the bottle made noise the cats were coming. She hardly needed to call out, “treats…who wants a treat eh? Come on babies. Here in the bedroom.”

Her voice became muffled and then she came back out and said, “There, all safe. I’ll make some tea while you call, shall I make two cups or three?”

“Four”, he answered. “I believe they normally come in twos.”


	18. We Have Tea with Mrs. Arabella Figg

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

**** Chapter 18 In Which We Have Tea with Mrs. Arabella Figg**

 

Note: This Chapter is dedicated to Blue Artemis. Your review sparked an idea...let's see if you like the fire.

 

Arabella closed the door to the parlor to allow Arthur as much privacy as she could. She filled the kettle and started it to boil on her electric stove. Living with Muggle conveniences was very easy, and Arabella fancied herself very lucky to have the best of both worlds with her television and refrigerator, but also her floo connection and her rheumatism potions. She put together a plate of biscuits and a few of the dainties that Dumbledore had left under a preservation charm the last time he’d been round. 

She could hear the murmur of Arthur’s voice but not the words. She wondered what it was that had gotten him so upset. It must have been dreadfully important, or he would have been more verbal. Arthur could spout off with the best of redheads, but when things were utterly important he was a paragon of control. She’d heard that he’d once gotten into a tussle with Lucius Malfoy, and in a bookshop no less, but she had never heard a harsh word out of him toward his children, or his wife.

She placed the plate of goodies and the milk and sugar on her tea trolley adding her four best cups. When the kettle was hot and the water poured into the waiting pot she finally put on the teapot itself, snuggled up in a tea cozy that was made to look like the head of her favorite cat, Mr. Tibbles.

By the time Mrs. Figg was ready to roll into the dining room Arthur’s voice was silent. She went out to find him examining the photographs on the mantle calmly. He turned as she entered and came over to the cart immediately.

“What is this you’re got Arabella? Some Muggle contraption?” He asked with mock disapproval.

“Oh, it’s a tea trolley. You haven’t been round for tea before have you?” She smiled at him when he shook his head.

“Well, it is just the thing for Muggles and Squibs you know.” She said proudly.

He rolled it back and forth a bit, experimentally and then took it for a spin around the room.

“That’s quite fascinating, I do say. I never would have thought of it.” He said in admiration. 

Arabella was pleased with his reaction to the little cart. She found it so useful herself. Why, she could serve her guests tea almost as effortlessly as her mother had, with such a device.

“Do sit down Arthur.” She said. She always liked her guests to choose their seat first so they would be most comfortable.

He sat in on her warn couch facing the fire expectantly. Arabella choose the armchair that was perpendicular to the sofa, in order to serve and see her guests better. 

Arthur sat up straighter and looked at the top of the trolley. “I say Arabella, why is your teapot wearing a jumper?” He asked. “It is a lovely jumper, really, it’s meant to look like Mr. Gibbles, right?”

“Yes, my cat Mr. Tibbles.” She corrected politely. “It is called a tea cozy.” She explained, eyes shining with mirth.

“Tea cozy.” He said. “It is also a Muggle thing, correct?” 

When she nodded he guessed, “Cozy: because it keeps the tea warm.”

She nodded again, her smile widening.

“Ingenious name. Does it work?” He inquired.

“You’ll see,” she said playfully. 

At that moment the flames of the transfigured fire Arthur had left burning turned emerald green, and out of the fireplace stepped two people.

They appeared to be husband and wife as they held hands as they came through. They were both dressed in Muggle attire. The woman was dressed in a conservative, but colorful and playful skirt ensemble. The gentleman was dressed in a dark, serious Muggle suit; much like the one that Arthur had seen Severus in earlier.

The couple unclasped hands and the woman said in a light voice. 

“Hello we are Margaret and David Meeks of the Filius Sollicitudo Department of the Ministry for Magic. We were told to ask for Arthur Weasley.”

Arthur had already risen and reached out to shake both their hands. “I am Arthur Weasley and this gentle lady is Arabella Figg. She has kindly allowed that we may use her living room as our meeting place.”

Arabella stood from her chair and spread her arms. “Welcome here.” She said. “Please sit, be comfortable.”

Once they had stepped around the coffee table and seated themselves on the sofa she began to pour tea. She got each of her guests their cup of tea, fixed the way they liked and put the plate of goodies out on the coffee table in easy reach. Then she sat back and waited to see what this was all about.

“Mr. Weasley, you have called us here to hear your case and see your evidence. Please proceed.” The gentleman said formally.

“Yes, thank you.” Mr. Weasley had seen this branch of the Ministry at work before and he knew what he was meant to do.

“Your subject is 15 years old, he will turn 16 in a few weeks. He is a wizard, but when his parents passed away in his infancy he was given into the care of his Mother’s Muggle sister and her husband to be raised up by them alongside his cousin who is a few weeks his senior. His name is Harry.” He began.

“He attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with my son Ron Weasley. They are year mates and house mates sharing a dorm room and have become fast friends.” He continued.

“Their other friend, Hermione Granger, a fine Muggle-born witch, brought it to our attention that something was wrong with Harry. We arranged to have Harry and his professor, who was also concerned, to lunch and ask him outright what was going on.

“Harry revealed to us that he is a Shefro. This is an important fact because Shefro, I read today, are very sensitive, by all reports they can become so highly tuned to the thrum of magic around them they can see magic and smell spells.

“During lunch Harry became ill and I decided to pop round to his Aunt and Uncle’s house to see if we could keep him overnight. The reception I received was…well…hostile at first when she thought I was going to bring the boy back sick, but then when she realized we meant to keep him until he was better, she was glad to be rid of him and…well…there was some business about sending him to the park and never bringing him to the house. I think she tries to keep his existence a secret from the neighbors. She became angry when I said the word nephew.” Arthur had begun to turn red, but he was by no means embarrassed. He was angry and worried. 

The other three had listened with rapt attention. Mrs. Figg was paying special attention because she knew of whom Arthur spoke. The couple was attentive because it was their job, but when he paused the lady held up a hand to pause him and said, “I believe that is enough to warrant us looking at your memories.” 

She turned to her husband, “Do you agree David?” 

He nodded to her and asked, “Mr. Weasley would you like to pensieve your memories back at our office or would you allow us to use Legilimency here?”

Arthur responded immediately. “Legilimency here. I would like you to visit with Mrs. Dursley today if possible.”

Mrs. Meeks assured him, “If what we see meets Filius Sollicitudo Department criteria we shall.” 

Arthur relaxed back onto the couch and opened his eyes to them. “You are looking for the referents: Dudley Dursley, Petunia Dursley, Vernon Dursley, Privet Drive and…” here he paused. “Utmost confidentiality?” He asked his brow furrowed.

“Utmost confidentiality.” They replied firmly in unison.

“Harry…James...Potter.” He finished.

He watched them waiting for signs of eagerness or excitement. When they showed nothing but concern and dedication he sighed his relief and nodded for them to begin.

They both drew their wands, and then joined hands again. Together they spoke the incantation and Arthur tried to focus on his memory of his earlier confrontation. They looked for a while with the combined strength of both their considerable talents. Then they spoke the names he had given them, in slow succession to force the memories of these people to the surface.

Surprisingly they also spoke the names of Harry’s best friends, seemingly to get access to the evidence these people had presented as well. Arthur was drained and sweating by the time they had finished. He noticed that the cats were back and Mrs. Figg was just wheeling in a new pot of tea. They had been looking at his memories for more than an hour.

He excused himself to the washroom to take care of necessity as well as to wash his face and refresh his addled brain. 

When he returned to the parlor there was a fresh cup of tea, just the way he liked at his place, but the Meeks were nowhere in sight.

He looked enquiringly at Mrs. Figg and she pointed at the closed kitchen door. “They needed a bit of a chat, so they are taking their tea in the kitchen. They didn’t look to like what they saw.” 

She paused and then blurted out tearfully, “Can you tell me Arthur…is it very bad? Will the boy be all right? Will you look after him?” He walked over to the distraught woman and knelt down beside her chair taking her hands.

“I swear to you Arabella, if they find that something is wrong at that house something will be done about it. Harry is already like another son to us. He is very dear to our hearts.” He assured her.

At the beginning of this speech the Meeks had come out of the kitchen, cups in hand. They nodded to one another and Mr. Meeks said, “We are pleased to hear that Mr. Weasley. Would you and your wife be willing to take charge of young Harry if he needs to be removed from his relatives care?”

“Yes.” He replied right away.

“You do not need to speak to your family about this?” Mrs. Meeks asked seriously. 

“Harry has been part of our family since he turned up in the middle of the night four years ago.” He assured them. “Molly and the kids wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They all seated themselves once more, as the couple seemed to have a few more things they would like to discuss with Arthur.

“Our department has got the power to remove any underage witch or wizard from their residence at the least suspicion of neglect or abuse.” Margaret informed them.

“I know this.” Arthur guaranteed her.

David spoke up, “Normally the evidence you have given us thus far would be enough to warrant a temporary removal and search of the care giver’s memories. This would be followed by treatment for the child as well as a gentle search of their memories. Sometimes the caregiver is corrected and monitored. Other times the adult is charged and the child is relocated.”

He sighed and then continued. “Even with Pensieve memories and Legilimency it is often not easy to sort out what has happened. It can sometimes take weeks to determine what the status of the subject is going to be.”

She nodded, “but some things are very special about this case. We feel that given Harry’s importance to the Ministry and his special creature status, the decision should be reached right away.” 

“What does Harry being a Shefro have to do with it?” Mrs. Figg asked, slightly insulted that they’d called little Harry a creature.

“Well normally I’d say nothing, but he is, as Mr. Weasley pointed out, an emotionally driven kind of wizard.” Mr. Weeks said delicately. “One who can smell the emotions of the people that are around him cannot be exposed to the kind of loathing or disgust we have seen in the memories.” 

“Not to mention,” His wife jumped in, “That Harry is much older than any other young person our department has ever relocated. He has been subject to this…nastiness for far too long.”

“How do you mean?” Asked Mrs. Figg.

“Well the oldest child our Department has moved in the past 45 years was 7.” She explained. “You know about the _Magical Potential Book_ that sorts out which children, be they Wizard or Muggle born, are going to be invited to Hogwarts and writes their letters based on the address and location it detects their magical signature coming from, right?”

When they nodded her husband continued. “It has a cousin so to speak. When we first started out we had to operate entirely by following up complaints like the one Mr. Weasley presented to us. Ten years later, in the early 60’s we made our own book at the Filius Sollicitudo Department. It monitors the magical signatures of underage witches and wizards and automatically issues a complaint on their behalf that alerts us to problems like this.” 

He shook his head sadly, “but it might have missed your Harry somehow. That woman looked pretty volatile. I am certain the book would have reported her.”

His wife nodded her agreement and took his hand. “We are very concerned about how the healers will manage with a young man for whom the age where they are most impressionable is past.” 

“Oh my, Yes.” Arabella agreed. “But that boy is still very biddable and open with me. I do hope he’ll be alright.” 

Mrs. Meeks assured her, “We will get to the bottom of this madam.” 

At this point Mr. Meeks turned to Arabella also. “Thank you for having us in your home and for the tea. It was lovely.” He brought out two pieces of parchment, one green and one yellow.

He straightened and became formal once more. “Arabella Figg, do you wish to sign the green vow to maintain confidentiality regarding our meeting here this afternoon July 7th or do you wish to sign the yellow form and have your memory altered.”

“Alright dear, the green form please. Let me see it.” She said with her hand held out.

She read out loud:

_I – fill in full name – do vow to maintain silence on the issue discussed on this day – fill in date – unless given express permission by the persons of the Filius Sollicitudo Department, the new caregiver of the subject, the subject themselves or the Wizengamot._

“Give me a quill dear. I’ll sign it.” She assured them.

“Thank you Madam.” He said pocketing the yellow form. The green one popped off in a little whif of smoke, presumably to file itself.

They stood and the gentleman leaned forward to Arthur and said. “We would like to meet this Petunia Dursley, collect our evidence and make our judgment, today.”

Arthur gladly led them out the door and Mrs. Figg waved them on their way.

 

Footnote:  
Filius is Latin for offspring or son.  
Sollicitudo is Latin for concern.


	19. The Filius Sollicitudo Watch Some Disturbing Events

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

Note: This chapter contains sexual assault. 

**** Chapter 19 In Which The Filius Sollicitudo Watch Some Disturbing Events.**

Mrs. Petunia Dursley was spending the afternoon sitting in her living room watching a romance program with her husband’s sister Marge. It was her favorite show and she found herself in the happy situation of having hit upon another fan to watch it with. It was in the midst of a break for an advert and she and Marge were commiserating with the leading heroine who was trying to deal with her hoodlum brother without revealing his existence to the hero, with whom she was in love.

She was currently drawing parallels for Marge between her situation with her dreadful sister and the heroine and her criminal brother. She was very careful not to mention exactly what made her sister so very horrid. Petunia would not sully her mouth to talk about such foulness.

For her part Marge was fully engaged in the discussion. They were hotly discussing the terrors of having bad blood in the family when the doorbell rang.

Since Dudley was out at Pier’s house and the boy was out with his freaky friends Mrs. Dursley had to get up and answer the door herself. She sighed at the injustice of salesmen and religious zealots interrupting busy housewives when they’d just gotten a moment to take a break.

Imagine her surprise, and indeed her anger when she opened the door to find that the red haired freak was again darkening her door, and he had two well-dressed people with him.

She slung the door open and began to point her finger imperiously at the sidewalk to tell them to get off her porch before she called the police. She never completed the movement though because she noticed that the man across the way had come out to water his rose bushes and so her sharp eyes stopped her making a grave error in decorum just in the nick of time.

“Get in here now.” She hissed through gritted teeth, her false smile got just a little spittle on it.

Once the three weirdoes were inside she closed the door and rounded on them.

“I told you we don’t want your kind here. If my husband were here he would…” She sneered.

“Who is it Petunia?” Marge asked. Then she called, “Ripper. Here boy.” She was standing in the living room doorway. Her sister in law was obviously most distressed to have these people in her home and she intended to help rout them out.

Petunia froze. She did not want to do this in front of Marge.

Her moment of hesitation was all that was needed for the situation to be taken completely out of her hands.

Mr. Meeks cast _Petrificus Totalus_ on Marge while his wife asked Petunia, “Is this woman aware of young Mr. Potter’s status?”

“What?” Petunia asked momentarily befuddled. 

When she realized that they were asking if her husband’s sister knew all about the freak’s abnormality she said very forcefully, “NO. She is **not** to know anything about _that._ ” She spat the last word as though it were a curse.

Mr. Meeks nodded and levitated Marge back into the living room and shut her there.

He turned back to Mrs. Dursley and put on his formal and serious demeanor.

“Petunia Dursley, we are Margaret and David Meeks of the Filius Sollicitudo department of the Ministry for Magic. We are here to collect evidence on behalf of the ministry regarding the manner in which you have been caring for Harry James Potter.”

“What?” She asked bewildered. 

Mr. Meeks ploughed on despite her confusion. “Do you wish to have your memories reviewed by Pensieve at our office or do you wish to have them examined by Legilimency here in your home?” He asked, meeting his legal requirements.

“I am not going anywhere with you lot!” She screeched backing away. 

“Oh, good. Legilimency then.” Mrs. Meeks said in a bright voice that belied the glint of anger in her eyes. She could see exactly what Arthur had meant about this woman and her anger and hostility.

“It would be best if you were seated while we conduct our investigation. Where would you like to be Madam?” Her husband asked his voice devoid of emotion.

Petunia slumped in defeat. She supposed it would be best to get it over with. Whatever the little beast had done to make these people need to examine her, she hoped it would get him incarcerated until he was seventeen, and therefore, no longer her problem.

Silently she led them to the kitchen. She pointedly did not offer them anything to eat or drink, hoping that would get rid of them faster.

She seated herself at the kitchen table where the other three sat as well.

“Very well, get it over with and then you can take the boy into custody.” She said.

The Meeks gave her no warning, immediately upon seating themselves they said in unison, “Harry James Potter” and then “Legilimens” to direct her mind to the proper referent and have a look at it.

David shook his head at his wife and she tried “Harry” and then “Potter” on her own. 

She stopped and looked at her husband, shrugging.

“What is it?” Arthur asked.

“The first cast got memories of his infancy and a letter.” David answered. “What did you get on your last casts Maggie?” He asked his wife.

“The first cast I got a hairy long legged spider, the carpet that dog sleeps on and that other woman’s legs. For the second I got dictionary definitions, a wedding invitation and a Wizarding picture of a couple dancing. Strangely enough, it was on fire.” She shrugged.

“She’s blocking you?” Mr. Weasley asked amazed.

Mrs. Meeks laughed at this. “Oh no Arthur, I think perhaps they just don’t call him Harry.” She turned to Petunia again. “Mrs. Dursley what did you call young Mr. Potter when he was at home? Did you call him some pet names perhaps?” 

“What?” She seemed to be asking that a lot. “What do you mean?”

“Did you call him Pumpkin or Dearie or anything like that?” She clarified.

Petunia snorted and then sneered, “Certainly not.” 

Mr. Meeks looked mildly confused. He was trying to figure out her attitude.

“Try freak” Arthur said his voice quietly sad.

Mrs. Meeks head whipped round to focus on him. “Did you say freak?” She asked peering at him.

He nodded.

Mr. Meeks nodded and they began again.

Arthur watched them as they went along. 

The couple joined their hands and raised their wands once more. In unison they said, “Freak, Legilimens.” 

This time the boy they had seen in Arthur’s mind was firmly at the front of Petunia’s mind for them to view. They saw a flash of his face with bruised lips and tape across his little red nose. Then they saw a flash of him Kneeling on the floor of this kitchen, his face in the same state, his back rigidly straight looking up at them as though they were standing at the counter.

Both of them blinked and then looked at one another. They shared a moment that was unfathomable to Arthur but then they set to bent to their task.

Again they said “Freak Legilimens.” 

The previous scene they viewed came into clearer focus and they could hear the conversation. 

They watched as Petunia examined Harry’s nose and they listened while the boy revealed that it had been broken accidentally when his uncle had thrust his penis into his rosebud mouth. 

They watched while Harry recited the rule about how it was his job to provide his uncle with hand-jobs and blowjobs. They listened while Petunia expressed her deep disgust for the young Shefro’s body. They watched while Harry candidly assured his aunt that he would never allow his uncle to have intercourse with him because he was filthy and would soil her Vernon

The listened in dismay as Vernon entered and confirmed that Harry had performed oral sex well and that he’d been pleased because the boy had cried for him.

They watched horrified as Harry fairly wriggled with pride at having pleased them by providing this service for his uncle. 

This time when they stopped Mrs. Meeks had tears running down her face. They really didn’t need anything else the boy was being horridly abused in this house. That woman was sitting there as though she’d done nothing wrong. In fact she looked a bit smug.

She began to release her husband’s hand.

He tightened his grip on her slightly, passed her his handkerchief and said, “Not yet Maggie.” He watched Mr. Weasley pacing the floor. He had begun when Maggie had started to cry.

“Arthur, you said he was a Shefro?” He asked.

“We think so.” Arthur reminded him.

David nodded and looked to his wife. She wiped her face with his hanky and nodded gamely.

Together they said “Shefro, Legilimens.” 

It was only a second or two later that both of them had blinked and Mr. Meeks had shuddered a little. It was disconcerting when one drew a blank. When no particular thought was at the surface of the subject’s mind, it was often a quagmire.

“Creature maybe?” He suggested a referent.

“Wings?” She suggested. 

“Yes. Good!” He said, because that was perfect, as he frankly wanted to know where Harry’s were.

In unison they said, “Wings Legilimens.”

They entered a nightmare. They were in the kitchen once again, but it was in a much different state to they one they were currently experiencing.

The table was covered in plastic, as was the floor. There was plastic hanging from the tops of the kitchen cupboards that draped all the way to the floor covering not only the cupboards themselves, but also the counters and appliances.

They looked down at Petunia’s gloved hands and noted that her arms were also incased in plastic and they gripped a roll of duct tape. They could hear a tussle out in the hall and it was coming closer. Harry’s voice was high and panicked.

“Oh sir, no please…please…Uncle? Please…I’m sorry…don’t…don’t please…no…oh…please…don’t.

Vernon’s plastic covered backside came into view in the doorway. He was obviously struggling to pull something, most likely Harry, into the plastic shrouded room.

“No…NO…please…I’ll run away…you’ll never have to look. No…please…sir. Please…uncle.

When Vernon had made it into the room and Harry’s head was visible Petunia put the tape on the floor and joined Vernon in his struggle.

“Shut up you little freak.” She shouted, slapping at him. “You strange, grotesque, unnatural, unwanted little freak.” She got behind him and pushed. 

Vernon was out of breath and his face was turning purple. 

Harry stopped making words at all and simply began to keen low in his throat. He sounded like a wounded cat.

They dragged him to the table. He resisted the whole way. 

“If you are going to live here you have to at least be able to pass as a person. I will not have unnatural creatures in this house.” They half lifted half threw him on the table.

“We will remove your filth.” She spat this at him while leaning against his back to lever him down and get his belly flat to the table.

She forced Harry’s arms out the sides and Vernon wrapped each wrist in rope and then lay down under the table to tie the two ends together pulling his chest against the table. 

Vernon lay under the table having a rest and enjoyed the sound or Harry when he began to whimper. 

The boy was trying with all his might not to scream. He was bent at the hip with his upper body flat to the table and his legs dangled swinging. He was helpless.

Vernon slid out from under the table climbed to his knees to secure Harry’s legs. He took some plastic and wrapped it around the Harry’s naked leg. He used a bit of tape to keep the plastic in place. Then he began to wrap the duct tape. He passed it between Harry’s leg and around the outside of the table leg repeatedly until the leg was completely immobile. Then he moved on to the other leg.

Vernon’s breathing sped up as he watched the tape stretch Harry out tight. His hands were wrapping the tape round and round, but his eyes were focused on the ass and cunt and balls spread out before him. One could clearly see that he desperately wanted to use his nephew for carnal pleasure. 

Petunia’s voice seemed to snap him back to reality.

“Vernon.” She sounded stern.

He looked up at her his face hungry. 

“He’s vile. It would soil you. You can’t put it in his disgusting holes.” She said in a voice like a teacher explaining math to a slow child.

Vernon nodded. “He’s dirty.” He confirmed.

Petunia smiled down on him as she stood and said “remember tonight keep it in your pants. He can give you a suck tomorrow.” She promised.

“I’ll go get the rest of what we need.” She said. As she left the room she gave Harry a hard smack on the backside. “You shut up little freak.” She ordered.

Harry couldn’t help it. He began to cry. He was silent but his sobs shook his frame. 

Vernon couldn’t help it either. He stood behind Harry and looked down at him spread out like a special treat. Vernon knew that Petunia would never sleep with him again if he fucked the boy in any hole but his mouth. 

He loved Harry’s mouth. It was so pretty when it sucked him. He toyed with the idea of climbing onto the table and using the boy’s mouth, but discarded it. He leaned against Harry relieve the pressure in his groin by pressing against Harry’s exposed ass.

He leaned right over to where he could whisper in Harry’s ear. 

“You filthy little freak. Dirty thing. Cry for uncle.” He began to rub himself against Harry grinding into him. “Oh…so dirty. Oh yes!” 

He began to run his fingers through Harry’s hair in a strangely gentle way. “Uh…oh good boy. Good little slut. Dirty little freak tied down for me…oh good boy…uh…uh.” Words became guttural noises as he began to lick the back of Harry’s neck. He rutted against the back of Harry until he stiffened and came.

He lay against the back of Harry panting and basking in the rush that always came after such an encounter. He continued to pet Harry’s hair and tell him that he was a good little freak.

Petunia had stood in the hall with her things to give Vernon his time with the slut. It was everything she could do not to laugh. Her body was shaking slightly. The picture of her nice stout Vernon humping against that little freaky bag of bones was terribly funny in her mind, but if she wanted Vernon’s help, she knew she’d better hold it in.

She waited until Vernon had stood and squeezed the front of his trousers to make his cum soak in, and therefore feel less uncomfortable when it cooled. Then she entered behind him while he was stretching. As she came round in front of him she could see that he looked relaxed and fairly pleased. She looked down to the little freak and saw that he had stopped crying and was looking back at Vernon steadily.

“Better?” She asked Vernon slightly amused.

“Much.” He replied with satisfaction.

She set down the things she’d brought in on the table in front of Harry. At the sight of the towels, iron, scissors and _Exacto_ brand razor knifes he began to panic again.

“Please no…was good…was good…I won’t…no one see…Please…Oh please. Please…at least hit me…with the pan…uncle please…good slut…please…don’t leave me awake for it.”

Vernon lifted the sheet of plastic on the oven and reached for the cast iron frying pan Petunia kept there, but she held out his hand to stop him.

“No Vernon, it will mark him and that Arthur Weasley and his family are coming to get him to take him to that…world cup thingy.” She said.

Vernon nodded and said, “Sorry boy,” in Harry’s general direction.

Petunia rolled up an old washcloth into a tube shape and had Harry open wide and bite it. The she taped it into his mouth. She padded beneath his head with a couple of towels and then stood back.

Finally she looked where all this time she had avoided looking. She looked at Harry’s back.

Through her eyes the Meeks saw two livid purple bruised running down Harry’s back from the shoulder blade to the hip. They stood out high against his skin like two purple snakes. Petunia shuddered when they visibly expanded as though two balloons were underneath the skin. She moved closer and it became clear that the long raised bumps were underneath longs strips of shiny scar tissue. The skin on Harry’s back looked fit to burst.

Harry began to groan through his nose and the snakes began to get bigger and Petunia backed as far as she could from Harry and still stay in the room. A moment later the skin did burst and blood sprayed across the room. Petunia covered her face to avoid being sprayed.

When she looked back the Meeks saw a mass of feathers and blood. Harry had sprouted wings. Magic was crackling around the room and the wings were flapping madly shaking the blood free. Magic was healing the fissures in the skin where the wings had burst forth. Petunia kept covering her face or turning away so things either kept going out of focus, or they would get a lovely view of the inside of her hand.

When five minutes had passed Harry was laying on the table with a beautiful pair of feathered wings the color of his hair. His magic had cleared him and his wings of the blood but all around him was spattered and the table was pooled with it. He had what might have been a second set of narrower, smaller shoulders below the first set that were much closer to the spine, but the beautiful plumage obscured them for the most part. 

When open the wings spread wider than Harry was tall and described a roughly triangular shape that had its top at the nape of his neck and its base in the center of his buttocks. There was a thin strip of human flesh that ran down the center, about a hand span wide where you could see his bony spine. When tucked tight the wings lay against Harry’s back like two black-feathered shields that crossed half way down is thigh.

He was thinner than he had been, nearly skeletal. He lay limp and lifeless on the table. His body had used up what little body fat and energy he had had to make and sprout these gorgeous wings.

“Good job Petunia.” Vernon said. “You didn’t puke this time.” He laughed.

“We’re not done yet.” She chided.

They approached Harry and Vernon took hold of one wing pulling it out high and away from the boy’s back. 

As soon as he felt his uncle’s hands on him Harry began to make the keening sound again, this time through his nose. He struggled, but could not move; he was too well secured. Once Vernon had the wing held out securely Petunia took up the _Exacto_ knife and began to cut.

Note: To skip the dreadful description skip to chapter 21 in which The Filius Sollicitudo Come to a Decision.


	20. Harry Receives a Very Serious Injury

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

**NOTE:** This chapter contains brutal violence. To skip the dreadful description skip to chapter 21 in which The Filius Sollicitudo Come to a Decision.

Tissue and bucket warning: If you are sensitive and foolishly decide to read this chapter you may find yourself needed tissues, or a bucket to vomit in or both.

 

**** Chapter 20:In which Harry Receives a Very Serious Injury**

Once Vernon had the wing held out securely Petunia took up the _Exacto_ knife and began to cut. She cut into Harry’s right shoulder about a centimeter above where the feathered skin ended. The puncture was made at the edge of the scar tissue that Harry bore. When the knife pierced his skin he let out a whine through his nose, then sucked in his breath and held it trying to stifle the sound coming out of his throat. 

Blood welled up where she had pushed the blade into his skin cutting through only the epidermal. This was easy to achieve as Harry had just lost all his body fat at once and his skin was loose. She could cut into the skin without cutting much of the muscle. Once this small incision was finished she lay down the _Exacto_ knife and picked up her meat scissors. 

They were thick heavy scissors with rounded tips made for trimming the skin off of chicken and other meat without ruining the flesh beneath. As she worked the tip into the opening she had made Harry began to breath again. Each intake of air hissed through his nose. Each exhalation was marked by a whining sound in his throat. Tears tracked their way down his face one at a time to drop onto the table and mix with the blood pooling there.

She used the scissors to cut along the uppermost edge of the strange skin on her nephews back. Then she turned the corner and made an 18 cm cut long the outside of the wing. 

Harry’s breathing was in cadence with her cutting. A hiss in each time she closed the scissors on his skin and a whine out each time she opened them again revealing the tiny furrow she was cutting down his back.

She set down the scissors and rolled up a towel tightly laying it along the cut and Vernon pressed it down while holding the wing between his arm and body. Then she went back to the top and cut a matching incision along the inside of the wing.  
She lay the scissors down. She took another towel and wrapped it around her marble rolling pin and lay it down over the incision to create pressure. The she took up the _Exacto_ knife and a pair of pliers. 

When she pinched the corner of the skin rectangle she had made and began to pull it up Harry’s whine became a keen, once again he sounded rather like a wounded cat. She methodically pulled and then scraped the _Exacto_ knife along the underside of the skin to leave as much behind as she could. When she had flayed up the skin all the way to the ball joint of the wing she lay down her tools once more. 

At this point there was a 5 cm by 5 cm flap of loose skin on Harry’s back. She folded up a rectangle of cloth and placed it not on the wound but on the skin above the wound. She took off the glove of her right hand and took up the iron in one hand and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol in the other.

She poured a good amount of the astringent onto the wound. Harry screamed through his nose. She applied the iron to the square of skinless flesh. The scream became a choking sound that ended with a sob. She pressed the base of the iron down to lie flat on the raw square. He continued to sob and choked on each incoming breath. 

The stench of searing flesh was in the air, vaguely reminiscent of pork chops cooking. Steam actually rose from beneath the iron. Petunia lifted the iron off and there was a shiny red wound underneath.

Once she put the iron back down Harry’s sobbing stopped. She worked the skin down the 18 cm cut on the outside with the pliers and the _Exacto_ knife. Harry began to breath more evenly again. She would lift and scrape. Each breath in now gurgled as snot was running from his nose and his tears continued to flow freely, but air was making it into his lungs and exiting in a nasal moan.

Four more times she applied the alcohol and the iron. Four more times Harry screamed out. By the time she had laid the muscle bare half way down each wing and cauterized the wounds with the iron Harry was breathing more rapidly. He was taking in a breath every second and letting each one out with a little sob, but he was getting quieter. His eyes were growing duller. He was weakening.

At the bottom of the strips of red seared flesh Petunia began to cut through the muscle that began somewhere in the wing and ended somewhere on Harry’s back so that she could see through to the other side. This was tedious as it need to be cauterized more often and was harder to cut through. She also had to change the blade in the knife three times to get a nice clean cut that would lie flat against the boy’s back. 

She worked her way up to the muscle around the ball joint. When she began to cut through this Harry began to sob more rapidly and loudly again. It sounded like he was saying over and over, “no, no, no, no.” in steady cadence behind his gag.

Once she had laid the joint bare and cauterized the wound above and around it, she carefully pulled it out sideways so that it too would lie flat when she was finished.

At this point she nodded at Vernon and stood with an alcohol soaked cloth in her hand. She looked down at the bloody cloths and said to Vernon, “At least I get new cloths and towels out of this every year.”

“That’s my girl.” He said. “An up side to everything, eh?”

He changed his hold on the wing at this point. He moved to stand at by Harry’s head. As soon as Harry saw him his breathing changed and he began to whine again. This time it sounded like please said over and over.

Vernon gripped the wing down low in his right fist his wrist out straight. The other hand was gripping the wing up higher and in much the same position, but with the wrist cocked to pull the top of the wing toward his waist.

When he did pull the top of the wing he pushed on the bone just above the ball joint. Harry screamed his eyes wide, but bruised and almost sunken looking. He drew a ragged breath as his uncle rolled the ball in the socket seemingly searching for a spot. Vernon pushed again seeking to dislocate the wing bone from its joint. Harry screamed again this time higher. His breath in was a choking one and he began to convulsively bang his head against the towel his aunt had placed on the table. Vernon twisted the bone brutally turning it in the socket and then pushed again. When it came loose, a sickening crack was heard above through the little Shefro’s ragged nasal screaming and Mr. Meeks found the scene in front of himself going black. 

 

How many of you made it through? I almost didn’t! - Sly


	21. The Filius Sollicitudo Come to a Decision

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

**** Chapter 21: In Which The Filius Sollicitudo Come to a Decision.**

As David waited for the present world to snap back into focus he wondered if the memory had ended because Petunia fainted while her husband was dislocating the poor little Shefro’s wing from his shoulder. 

He was quickly dissuaded from that notion when he heard his wife vomiting and saying, “Oh no, oh no”. 

Under the hysterical gibberish he could hear the sound of Petunia’s low laugher. “You’re not so tough.” She mocked Mrs. Meeks. “Whatever that boy has done you now need to deal with him. Now you’ve seen what a freak it is. I’d like to see a wimp like you make him fit for human company.”

Mr. Meeks was busy rubbing his wife’s back in small circles while she retched having already emptied her stomach onto the floor. Mr. Weasley was searching the counter with a glass in his hand trying to work out how they got water to flow into the sink. Mrs. Meeks was now repeating the phrase, “They cut off his wings.” In an amazed voice to her husband, as though she couldn’t believe that she’d seen it.

Petunia rose from her chair and grabbed the glass from Arthur and filled it from the tap. “Here, you idiot.” She pushed it into his hands. 

“Clean that up,” She pointed imperiously at the vomit, “and get out of my house.” With that she turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Arthur brought the water to the couple and cast a vanishing charm on the vomit. He had heard what Mrs. Meeks was saying.

“Is it true?” He asked in a whisper. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened. His jaw was clenched in his mouth.

Mr. Meeks looked shell shocked, but his voice was even nevertheless. He said, “They restrained they boy to the table and cut off his wings. He was awake for it Arthur. They….” He stopped, knowing that this man needed to remain calm at this time and it would be better to elaborate later when there was no chance of his doing something rash.

“They were afraid to knock him out by hitting him with a pan because your family was coming to get him for the world cup. Was that last year?” He asked.

Arthur nodded without speaking.

“That woman,” Margaret said. “She thinks _he’s_ done something wrong.” 

Again she sounded amazed at what was happening here. She shook her head, not in denial, but to clear it. Her eyes hardened. “That woman…”

“Is going to Azkaban.” Her husband finished.

Arthur was clenching and unclenching his fists trying to maintain control. ‘They’d cut off his wings; while he was awake.’ He thought. ‘The scars on his back.’ He realized. ‘The boy was meant to have wings. They’d cut off delicate little Harry’s wings.’ 

“She should be killed.” Mrs. Meeks hissed.

“That is not for us to decide. She is going to be arrested and go to Azkaban. If they give her the death penalty I will dance, but it is not for us to decide.” He reminded her.

Mr. Meeks took control once more. “You and Arthur get together all the boy’s things Maggie. I don’t want him to have to come back to this house…ever.”

They had both been foundering in their emotions and grasped at the idea of having something tangible to do that would help Harry.


	22. Our Trio Collect Harrys Things

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

**Chapter 22 In Which Our Trio Collect Harry’s Things.**

Mr. Meeks stepped into the living room and closed the door behind him. 

Mrs. Meeks and Arthur passed the living room by and carried on up the stairs to where Mr. Weasley thought he would find Harry’s room. Nymphadora Tonks had described the door of Harry’s room to him, trying vainly to explain to him that Muggles didn’t normally lock their children in, no matter how important they were.

He was now regretting that he hadn’t been more attentive to what she had said. He felt so stupid for telling her that he would have been tempted to lock his own children into their rooms if he hadn’t had monitoring charms on them to tell him if they were in trouble. Not to mention Molly’s clock. He had a feeling that these next few months would be full of times when he and Molly would recall similar warning signs they hadn’t previously noticed or worse, had ignored. He was so busy kicking himself that at first he didn’t notice that they’d reached the top of the stairs. 

Well he certainly couldn’t tell which room was Harry’s. He looked in them all and none of them looked like Harry’s. There was on done all in pinks and frills with a big double bed. This would be the master bedroom. 

The next room was done up in soccer and boxing posters. It was fairly neat and everything in it looked very new and high tech, but even the sight of all those plugs couldn’t cheer Arthur now. Arthur deduced that this room must belong to Harry’s large cousin, as the bed sagged a bit and a colossal pair of boxing shorts was hanging from a hanger on the closet door knob.

The last room was a tiny little room that had been done up in bulldogs. Arthur thought this must be Harry’s room, but when he opened the wardrobe that stood in the corner he found skirts that could only belong to the other woman downstairs.

Arthur came back out onto the landing and looked into the bathing room. Then he tapped the walls searching for an entrance to a hidden room. At this point Margaret took his arm. She startled him. He had forgotten she was there as he considered his heavy thoughts.

“Arthur” She said gently.

“Yes Maggie?” He replied.

“Muggles don’t have wizard space.” She said sadly.

“No. No of course not.” He agreed. He thought for a moment and then said, “They don’t use quills either do they?” He asked.

Mrs. Meeks thought that perhaps the shock of hearing what had happened to the young man he cared for as a surrogate son had unseated him somewhat. His question made no sense, but she answered it just the same. “No Arthur, they do not.”

“Very good.” He said. Then he incanted, _“Accio Quill.”_

Shortly a quill came floating up the stairs to them. Arthur plucked it out of the air.

Maggie said. “That might be David’s Quill.”

Mr. Weasley examined the quill and then pointed at the top, which looked like a new feather, tight and beautifully aligned were the filaments of the soft part. “Harry never frays, chews or bends the feather part of the quill. He is always very gentle with them.” He instructed. He showed her the other end of the quill, “but he presses to hard.” He pointed to where it was cut back rather far, but threadbare nonetheless. “It is almost as though he feels reverence for the beauty of the feather, but for some reason…” He trailed off when he saw how white Maggie had gone.

She finished the sentence for him, “for some reason he has trouble holding them. And this is his.” Arthur nodded. She held the feather reverently. The quill was very nearly the same color as Harry’s own feathers had been.

They went downstairs where Arthur repeated the incantation and they looked around alertly to see where the next quill would come from. A moment later they could see a feather working its way under the door to the cupboard under the stairs. 

“Ah, they’ve stowed away his school things.” Arthur said slightly disappointed that his ploy to find Harry’s new living space was not successful. “Might as well get that first.” 

Maggie nodded, happy that in a moment she would have something to do. Some action to take that would make her feel less helpless.

Arthur went to open the cupboard door and noted that it had a little slide lock to keep it closed. He held the door ajar and levered Harry’s school trunk out into the hall. He was closing the cupboard door again when he noticed something on the floor. He leaned into the cupboard to pick it up as it turned out to be a sock. Then Arthur saw that Harry’s school robes were lying in a heap at the end of the cupboard were the bottom of the stairs was. He was peering into the darkness when Maggie pulled on a cord above his head. 

“What’s that?” Arthur asked. Looking at the pull rope.

“Light switch.” She replied with her head and arm stuck in the cupboard. 

“Takes a long time to get going.” He said.

“It is broken” she replied. She pushed past him and crouched next to the pile of clothes. _“Lumos”_ She said causing the end of her wand to glow. 

The bottom end of the cupboard was thrown into sharp relief. There she saw a pile of school robes with some papers scattered round it and a quill. Over to the side were a water bottle, a shattered mirror taped back together and a bunch of candle stubs, obviously saved from somewhere.

Arthur cocked his head at the pile of clothes. “Something’s not…” He trailed off.

“Arthur. This is not just a pile of clothes. It is a nest. Look, he has a comb, a mirror, and old bits of candles. He has been saving them and matches, here. There are books of matches no one wants anymore because they had only two or three matches left. And candles of course are stubs.” 

She pointed to the papers. “He has been sitting here doing his homework under the stairs.” She shook her head looking closer at the papers. Over in the furthest corner another bottle caught her eye. She picked it up and passed it to Arthur. “Extra water” she said. 

Arthur looked at the bottle. _“Lumos”_ Arthur said. He set the bottle down and held his hands out momentarily and muttered, _“Scourify.”_

“What’s the matter?” Maggie asked. “This is brilliant. He created a secret space for himself. Like a hideout where he could just be.” 

She began to feel like maybe Harry would be okay. 

Arthur momentarily wanted to leave her with her pleasant illusion that this was Harry’s little clubhouse. He shook his head sadly. “Maggie.” He said quietly. 

She turned and looked at him.

He pointed at the partially full bottle he had set down. “It’s urine Maggie. He used the bottle to urinate in when he wasn’t allowed out.”

She shook her head slightly.

He nodded. “There’s a lock on the door. This is where he slept. This was where they kept him. And look. There are chalk pictures here, out of sight. You would have to be in the cupboard to see them.”

Maggie’s face fell. She sat on the little nest of blankets and lit a candle. She looked at the little pictures young Harry had made. She put out her wand and looked at them the same way he would have seen them.

The boy had by no means been an artist. The drawings were crude. Moon, stars and sun were drawn on the underside of a step. Arthur pointed out what might have been a bicycle with wings, on the back of a support. 

Maggie began to gather up all of the things. The papers she stacked and even the matches and candle ends she took. Arthur began to shake out and fold up the school robes. They picked up everything they could find in the cupboard. They packed it all in Harry’s trunk, all save the pictures he had drawn. Those they could only keep in their hearts.

Arthur took Harry’s trunk and carried it out to the porch. When they heard the front door Petunia and Mr. Meeks came out of the living room. Petunia looked out the door and saw Harry’s trunk. 

“He’s not coming back then?” She asked hopefully.

“No Mrs. Dursley. He is not.” Said Arthur. Maggie wondered at his respectful to address her, but Mr. Meeks saw it for what it was. Mr. Weasley was using formality, rigidly maintained, to aid him in keeping his temper.

“Good.” She said. She looked about to turn away.

“Were all of his things under the stairs, or is there anything else?” Arthur asked.

David didn’t quite understand the gentleman’s reference to stairs, but approved of his asking the woman if she wanted to send anything else along for the boy.

“No it was all there.” She confirmed. Again she was about to turn away when held up a hand and stopped her.

“I need to ask you a few things.” He said firmly.

The Meeks were ready at this point to take hold of Arthur or disarm him if need be. They needed this woman intact to charge her for her crimes.

She nodded once but stipulated, “Then you go.”

“Indeed Madam. I assure you I will never come back here.” He said sincerely.

“Very well. Make it quick.” She was eyeing the time. 

“Did Mrs. Potter come to see you before Harry was born?” He asked. 

Petunia narrowed her eyes but answered, “Yes.”

He nodded and told her. “I thought she must have. There is a protective spell around your home as long as Harry lives in it. For a family relationship like brother and sister or mother and son it wouldn’t matter how the two got along, the spell would still be strong.” 

Her lips had gone white but she nodded so he continued. “For the spell to work with more distant relations there is supposed to need to be an emotional bond, which I can’t say you and young Mr. Potter have…”

“Most assuredly not.” She answered haughtily.

“I thought not.” He carried on. “So I deduced that she came to see you while you were both pregnant. I must see her visit to you so that I can know why the wards are standing despite the…lack of bonding.”

His voice had become a void of emotion. This, more than any impassioned plea would have, convinced her that she had best not deny him this request. She nodded stiffly and looked at him so that he could view her memories. Very convenient this; it meant she didn’t have to talk to him.

Arthur looked into her eyes and within a few minutes he disengaged.

He got a blank piece of parchment and quill from Harry’s trunk and wrote upon it:

_I Petunia Dursley give Harry James Potter into the custody of Arthur Weasley forevermore, never wishing to see him henceforth. He shall no longer by my Kith._

He dated it and asked her to sign.

She read it once and signed it with relief.

The moment her pen left the paper (she had used a ballpoint from her apron pocket that smelled strangely like bacon) the wards around the house came down. It was as naked as its Muggle neighbors. Two wizards and one witch within the house felt them fall. Petunia Dursley felt nothing at all.

“Thank you Madam.” Arthur said. “And this is all of his things?” He double-checked. 

Petunia began to nod and then stopped. “No, two more things I think” she said with a little smirk on her face.

She returned with a plastic bag. Arthur peeked inside and saw a dogs bowl and collar. _’Keepsakes of a pet, must have been a big dog. No wonder the lad’s so good with Fang.’_ He thought. He closed the bag, nodded once and stepped out the door. He lugged Harry’s trunk down off the porch by hand hoping to burn off some aggression. Then he set it on its wheels and slowly began to walk away.

Mr. and Mrs. Meeks asked when her husband was home. Petunia tried to dissuade them from interviewing Vernon, as she knew it would irritate him, but eventually she told them what time to come around.

The caught up with Mr. Weasley in Wisteria Walk rather easily as he hadn’t been going very fast. Merely inching along to keep moving. He was taking his mind off the upset he’d had by imagining what the walkway between the two brick walls would look like if he actually charmed Wisterias to grow there.

“Arthur.” Mr. Meeks called. “What’s in the bag?” He asked. 

“Dog bowl and collar, must have had a pet, what?” Mr. Weasley replied. 

Mr. Meeks stopped dead. The woman had sent along the collar and the dish. He couldn’t help himself. He drew back his fist and punched the wall beside him. It made a solid smacking sound. He drew it back and punched again. 

Maggie stood for a moment watching him. She’d seen him do it before. They couldn’t hurt these people who hurt children. It was their job to save the child. Another was responsible for justice. The law left no room for retribution.

“Stop! David stop!” She said.

She shook herself and grabbed her husband’s arm after a particularly gruesome crunching sound accompanied the blow. He’d broken something in his hand, again. He shook her off and she landed on her bottom on the ground, but he stopped just the same.

Arthur closed his eyes. What they had seen, it must have been terrible, for two experienced Filius Sollicitudo workers to be this upset. He imagined Harry with wings. He imagined the pain involved in their removal. Having them taken off by a Muggle doctor would have been a crime, taking them off the boy themselves; it was an atrocity.

“Are you alright?” David panted at his wife. When she nodded he examined his hand then let his it hang down by his side. His breathing soon returned to normal. 

“Arthur, don’t give him that bag.” He said.

“I have to.” He replied. “She gave it to me for him. It is part of his life. Whatever it is about Harry went through it. If he can go through it I can hear about it and perhaps he can put it behind him and learn to look ahead.”

“I need to have a medi-witch Harry knows come and see if we can get his wings back somehow. I suppose I’d better stop the one he doesn’t know coming to see him at dinnertime. We’ll get her to look at your hand as well.”

David looked at his hand again. “Sorry about that. Sometimes you see these things…it just builds up…it has to come out. One day I’ll curse one of them. When it happens they’ll retire me.” He shrugged.

Arthur nodded, he was much sadder than he was angry. But it was good to know that these people still felt it. Still understood that each child that suffered was special and different and had a chance, not to forget, but to go on just the same. They helped the children. He himself he wasn’t a bad Legilimens. Perhaps he could transfer departments. He wasn’t much interested in Muggles any more.

They looked down at Maggie and she was holding Harry’s quill in her hand. She was caressing it and remembering the few moments when Harry had been whole.

She looked up at them and wiped her face. “If we feel like this after watching imagine what is was to go through it, and more than once too.” She began to sob and her husband lifted her in his arms and led the way back to Mrs. Figg’s house.


	23. Harry Gets to Sit Somewhere Special.

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

**Chapter 23 In which Harry Gets to Sit Somewhere Special.**

 

It was an hour ago at least that Professor Severus Snape had carried Harry into the Weasleys’ sitting room and approached the sofa that stood in front of the fireplace.

Molly had watched a moment while Severus tried to figure out how to put Harry down. She came up close to him to see what the problem was. The boy had seemingly fainted, but had balled up his little fists in the man’s suit jacket. She quietly asked, “Do you want to sit with him or shall I pry his fingers loose?”

Severus hesitated for the space of several seconds and then sat on the sofa while holding Harry in his arms. The little body felt so limp against him that he began to feel panicked. _When had Harry gone from reeling under sickness to fainting?_ He propped the little figure up on his left arm and moved the tousled head with his right. He finger combed the messy black mop out of Harry’s face and removed his glasses. He stroked the beardless face and called softly. “Harry, can you hear me.”

The dark eyelashes danced on the pale cheek for but a moment and then lay still again. Snape laid Harry’s head against his shoulder and with his fingers entwined in Harry’s hair he ran his thumb across Harry’s cheekbone. Up close like this he could see the slight bruising that the broken nose had left behind, though the bone was healed. He felt a terrible sadness build up in him and then resolve to protect his petit Gryffindor followed. 

This little man lying in his lap was the epitome of frailty and beauty. Severus could nearly felt his own spirit straining towards his little imp. He sadly wondered how he had thought Harry to be brash and confident, but that had been an act, hadn’t it. As much an act as the Greasy Git, Harry’s school persona didn’t really exist. Harry’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up into the potion master’s face blearily. 

Then he snapped awake, Severus felt the tension race through his small body. He slid to the floor kneeling beside the black boots of his professor and rested there. 

“I fainted again, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. Did I completely spoil lunch? Oh...” Harry started to work himself up.

Molly started forward and was about to kneel on the floor next to the boy when Snape’s hand came down to rest on one narrow shoulder and he said, “Hush, ” in a firm tone.

Harry stopped apologizing immediately and looked up at Snape from the floor. Their eyes met and for a moment there was silence. Then the potions master patted the couch beside him and said; “Come back up here where you can get warm.” 

Harry’s big green eyes looked searchingly up at the deep dark eyes above him. He gave in to the urge to rub his chin on the knee by his face and then he clambered up onto the couch. That one touch, giving his affection spontaneously, combined with the immediate obedience the young Gryffindor had twice displayed emboldened the normally taciturn professor and so he followed his heart rather than propriety and he moved Harry back into his lap. Finding that the young man reacted by snuggling up to him rewarded him wonderfully.

Molly tipped her head to the side. If someone told her about this she would never have believed it, but looking at it, it just looked right. Severus looked relaxed and complete where before he had looked like he had left a piece of himself at home. And Harry, her little Harry was so different from the little boy her sons had rescued. This Harry was sensitive and delicate. That other Harry had behaved like a carbon copy of her Ron, but more two-dimensional. She wondered if the dark haired duo that had invaded her heart and home today were just now showing their true selves.

“Do you often faint little Shefro?” She heard Severus ask.

Harry looked down at his hands that were clasped in his lap. “Um, sometimes.” He replied coloring. “I’m sorry.” One shoulder began to creep up toward his ear, but it straightened back out when Severus big hand squeezed his other shoulder.

“No one is angry with you Harry.” He said. “Smell.” The command was spoken lightly and Snape tipped his head to the side to allow Harry to get closer if he wanted. It was an invitation.

Harry sniffed looking a little self-conscious. 

“You smell so different now school is over. You used to smell so flat, almost like a ghost. Like you were all thought and logic and no feeling at all.” Harry couldn’t get enough of the smell of this man. It was like a drug. He’d never smelled anything quite like it. He’d never sat on anyone’s lap before either. It was decadently luxurious to be surrounded by the heat of another and to smell warmth and care coming from the bigger man. 

He rested his shoulder against the muscular chest that lay hidden beneath the Muggle suit. He could not help but nuzzle into the neck presented to him. He breathed in the scent of cloves and mint and with them the scent of something wonderful that made him feel safe and cared for. He let his body relax against the safety provided. 

Snape was sitting with his beautiful imp, his cherished one, on his lap. He had never imagined he’d get the opportunity to be so close to the young man in his arms. He tried to memorize every second. Inside he was a curious mixture of bliss and resolve.

“What you smell, or rather do not smell, at school” Severus sighed, “is the result of a potion I take to suppress my emotions. It enables me to do what is needed to be an effective spy. I could not otherwise cast many of the spells the Dark Lord commands me to cast. I could not witness much of what I have seen without giving myself away.” 

Molly sat on the far end of the couch by Harry’s feet, which were taking up the middle of the couch. “Is it so terrible Severus, to be one of them?” She asked.

“When I was young, angry and desperately afraid of Muggles it was terrible. Since then I have experienced life and am not so selfish as I once was. I can understand the pain of other living creatures. Now it is unbearable.” He told her.

She nodded, but Harry said, “but at school you act angry. You almost smell angry too, but it’s like you are trying to be angry. Is your anger also in the past?”

“It is. Becoming a Legilimens I was required to get to know my own feelings. My anger was sprung of fear. Now that there is no fear, there is no anger. My father was the kind of man that makes Wizards fear Muggles. The kind of man who feels the need to either belittle, or destroy, that which is not like him.” 

“But Molly did not ask me hear to talk about me Harry. She asked me here to find out about you.” Severus said gently.

Harry shrank a little at this. He clasped his hands in his lap. He had always hated being dishonest and lying to his friends by pretending to be like them, but he was taking a big chance. Maybe none of them wanted a pet. He would have to go back to the Dursleys’ home filled with the knowledge that he had betrayed their first commandment. Thou shalt blend in. He took in a breath and let it out.

“I’m a little confused.” Harry admitted. “I don’t know what I am supposed to do. The people my parents left me with told me to never, ever tell people the kind of thing you are asking me about, but they also told me that I should never do magic. If I belong to them, I should do as they tell me, but pretending to be like other people, hoodwinking people into thinking I am one of them when I am really a beast-“

“That is a lie Harry.” Molly told him sternly.

A single tear ran down Harry’s face. “But Mrs. Weasley Ma’am that is why it is so confusing. When I am here with you, the things you say are true, but when I am with them the same thing applies. I can tell when someone lies, I can smell it.” Harry avowed

“When they say I am an animal they are telling the truth, and when you say they are lying that is also true. I am trying to be what everyone wants me to be, but now you seem to want me to be what I am, when I am with you, even when I am with them and…did that make any sense?” Harry paused to ask.

“Yes dear, it did.” Said Molly. “I don’t understand it, but it makes sense. You shouldn’t have to be anything but yourself.”

“Harry I think that what you smell when you smell a lie is to smell that the person knows they are lying. If they really believe something when they say it then it will smell like the truth, don’t you think?” Severus asked.

“Yes, but doesn’t that mean it might be true? I mean that they might be right?” Harry asked curiously.

“In many cases, yes, but not in this case. In this case I think you need to realize that, being Muggles they do not understand you at all.” He told the young man on his lap. “They haven’t the experience to do so.” 

“I on the other hand have read a bit about Shefro and so I can tell you about yourself with a more open mind. And Mrs. Weasley here has been in the Wizarding world her whole life. She too will be able to provide you with open-minded judgments about who you should try to be. For we are none of us finished changing and growing Harry. We all become a little more like the person we really want to be each day.” He assured the young man.

Harry’s color looked better now. Perhaps he wasn’t ill with the flue after all, perhaps the travel and the food and then the questions were just too much for his delicate body and the vomiting had brought on the paleness and weakness.

Molly leaned forward again and took Harry’s temperature. It was still low. “Severus, do Shefro naturally have lower temperatures than regular wizards?” She asked.

“No, Molly, they are like regular wizards in every respect save five. One they are empathic as children, and can tell how others feel. Their sensitivity emotionally makes them rather delicate. Two they can see magic and spells when they are mature. Three they can channel and absorb tremendous amounts of magical energy requiring immense self-control to manipulate. Four they grow wings when they reach menses and five they are dual sexed. There are some differences that spring from those five, but they are basically it.” He stopped talking here as Molly seemed to want to ask a question and Harry was trying to slide off his lap again and was trembling rather violently.

“Severus, when you say menses and dual sexed…are you telling me that Harry is a hermaphrodite?” Molly asked.

Snape held up a finger to her asking her to give him a minute. He held Harry tighter to keep him from achieving his goal of squirming free. “Hush.” He said. Again the response was instantaneous. Harry froze, but he did not relax. He was strung tighter than a bowstring and trembling. 

“This is one of the things they made you hide isn’t it little one?” He asked gently. 

He slid Harry more firmly against his side. Harry then moved in the opposite direction and buried his face in the black suit jacket in front of him. He was silent as he cried, but again Severus could feel the sobs against his hand. He cradled Harry with both hands and rocked him slightly. Molly leaned forward to be ready to add her support if needed. 

Ginny had been like this just after the incident in the chamber. She would waken and Arthur would hold her just so, as she cried her little heart out. Ginny had made significantly more noise than Harry, but the look on her face had been similar. Grief, pain and guilt had been etched on her young face. Harry looked to be tormented with it.

She could hear the words Harry was whispering. They were the words that had started them on this path, the words that had worried Hermione so. 

“Freak, filthy freak, unnatural freak, unwanted freak, strange freak. Oh sick unnatural freak. Oh...oh.” He whispered to himself. Molly began to cry herself. To hear such a litany of self-recrimination was horribly, terribly sad.

Then she could her Snape whispering too.

“Exquisite, magical, delicate, sensitive, beautiful, secretive, clever, loving, gentle little pet, angel, imp, my Sweet little imp. Stop that now. Come now listen to me. You are exquisite. Stop that recitation of lies. Listen to the truth. You are beautiful Harry. My little Harry, Come now angel. Look at me.”

Harry brought his face round to look at Snape. 

“Ah, my imp.” Severus looked at his cherished one. Harry’s eyes were red and swollen. His nose was runny and he was abusing his bottom lip with his teeth over and over. 

“There now, that’s it. Good boy.” Snape reassured him. 

Molly watched with the dawning realization that the older gentleman on her couch was completely smitten by the young man in his lap. Where she felt bitter anger he seemed to feel only sadness. He seemed so very sad, but he saw only the need to try and help the young man in front of him. All else had dropped away for Professor Severus Snape.

The professor fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Harry’s face again. He instructed the boy to blow and then cast a cleaning charm on the little piece of silk. Then he wiped Harry’s face again.

“All right, Mr. Potter?” He asked.

“Yes sir. Sorry sir.” Harry replied.

Severus sighed. “There is no need for you to be sorry young man, but you must realize that there is no need to be ashamed of what you are. You are a very special individual.”

Harry cocked his head at this. “It is very hard to believe that.” He said in a matter of fact manner.

“You don’t think I’m gross?” He asked Snape.

Snape shook his head.

“Mrs. Weasley, now that you know aren’t you upset that I share a room with Ron?” Harry asked Molly.

Mrs. Weasley replied, “To be honest with you Harry, I really don’t think you should have roomed with the boys if you are a hermaphrodite, but as you have boy parts too, it’s not like you can room with the girls either.” 

Harry’s eyes dropped and he focused on his hands. “See professor. I’m gross.” He sighed. “I’m going to end up in the forbidden forest with the Acromantula.”

Mrs. Weasley was shocked. “Harry James Potter. That is not what I meant at all. You are twisting my words. I wouldn’t let Ginny room with the boys either. It’s not because Ginny is gross, as you say, it’s because boys are…well…they are boys!” She huffed. 

“Do you really think I would do that ma’am?” Harry asked his lap, rather subdued. “I care about them. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” He sounded on the edge of crying again.

“What is it you think that I think that you would do?” Molly asked, amazed at how talking to Harry so often meant that grammar had no place in the conversation.

“Seduce them.” Harry answered with his eyes still downcast.

“Oh, child, it’s your virtue I am worried about. I lost all hope for Ron’s virtue when I found his collection of witchie magazines.” She said lightly, hoping to make Harry less heavyhearted.

“Oh, Mrs. Weasley, I don’t have any virtue. I’m a whore.” Harry responded also lightly. 

Molly’s smile faded, but Harry didn’t notice as he was looking at his fingers.

“What do you think Professor, where will they put me? They can’t really make me stay in the forest, can they?” Harry asked half joking.

“Of course not Harry. We’ll come up with something.” Snape reassured him.

Severus heard the fire flare up as though someone was coming in the floo. He suddenly realized how bad it could look, him having Harry on his lap. He began to shift Harry when Molly went out to the kitchen to see.

Harry leaned into Snape. “Thank you.” He said. He slid off his professor’s lap and sat down cross-legged on the floor. “I’ve never sat on anyone’s lap before. It was brilliant.”


	24. Harry Writes His Name

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

**Chapter 24: In Which Harry Writes His Name.**

Severus looked down at the boy by his feet. Harry had never sat in anyone’s lap? Snape closed his eyes and thought back. He remembered sitting on many laps in his childhood. He stifled the urge to pull Harry back into his lap and smother him with affection. Instead he stood and urged Harry to lie down on the couch. Then he padded the boy’s head with a pillow and covered him with the afghan that was on the back of the sofa.

Snape folded himself into a comfortable position on the floor by the young man’s head. He ran his fingers through the young Shefro’s thick black hair, urging him to relax. Everything he’d read on Shefro had told him they were very tactile. They needed plenty of physical affection to be healthy.

“How does your stomach feel now?” The potions professor asked solicitously.

“It’s okay sir.” Harry replied. This was strange. To be lying down when another was sitting. It reminded him of the Hospital wing at school, but even warmer and more friendly. He’d never felt so content.

“You kept down that toast an adequate amount of time.” Snape commented. “You ate what, one piece?” 

Harry nodded. 

Snape nodded back.

They were silent for a bit. “Who do you suppose is here?” Harry asked.

“Perhaps it is the Medic I requested for you.” Snape replied.

“Oh.” Harry said in a sad little voice. “The Dursleys don’t want me examined.” He informed his professor. He hated to disappoint people, especially when they went to so much trouble for him.

“Hmm.” Snape said. He was saved from having to reply by the entry of the two youngest Weasleys.

Ginny Weasley bustled in and after a single look around the room she seated herself in an armchair and crossed her legs there looking across at the two of them, “Hello Professor Snape, Hello Harry. Do you feel okay?” She asked quietly.

Harry nodded to her. “I’m Okay.” He began to sit up, but Snape gently pushed him back down.

“Young men who vomit and then faint shouldn’t be jumping up and running around.” He said sternly.

Ron had stayed at the doorway looking at the tableau Snape and Harry made. He swallowed a couple of times, and then he came all the way into the room. He stopped beside the sofa and reached a hand down to his professor. 

Snape was a little surprised by Ron offering his hand, but he took it. The boy shook it firmly and said, “Thanks for going to get him.” 

“It was very little trouble.” Severus replied evenly. These children were taking the change in his character very well. He reminded himself that they were all very nearly adults and that they understood his role as a spy.

Harry had wiggled himself all the way against the back of the sofa and was cradled in the angle made by the seat and the backrest. Ron took advantage of this and sat in the space on the front of the cushions by Harry’s stomach.

“You gave Mum a fright.” Ron told Harry. “She’s never seen one of your attacks before.” 

“You told her I’m all right?” Harry asked, concerned.

“Well, I tried to tell her that you’d been through it before, but she wants to baby you just the same. It’s how mothers are mate. You’ll get used to it. She’s making you some gelatin now.” Ron smiled.

Harry tried to sit up again. “She doesn’t need to do that.” He stated.

This time Ron pushed him back down.

“I told you mate, that you’d just have to get used to it.” Ron Grinned. “Can I have some of your gelatin then? She’s putting fruit in it. I told her you were mental for fruit.”

“Yeah, well it’s good. Especially those little blue berries. I love those.” Harry said warmly.

Ginny hopped out of her chair. “Bet I can nick you some.” She said playfully.

“I bet you get yelled at.” Ron said. “Sit down, Gin. If you make mum mad, Harry is going to get upset again.” He waved her to her seat.

“Oh, Harry, don’t mind mum. You know what she’s like.” Ginny grinned.

Harry grinned back.

Ginny disappeared through the kitchen door.

Harry watched her out. “What did she tell you?” He asked looking away from Ron.

“That you’re a Shefro and those Muggles didn’t know how to take care of you. When she said about you throwing up I told her it’s because you always do that when you come back from them. They starve you. I’ve told her they don’t feed you right.” Ron said simply, aggrieved that no one had listened to him before.

Harry looked a little nervous, he didn’t like when Ron said bad things about the Dursleys. “I get what I deserve.” He told his friend firmly.

“You know mate, we argue about this every year, but I never win. You are always too sickly at the beginning of term for a good fight and then by the time I can yell at you, you just tell me that you’re okay now and it doesn’t matter. That’s not going to fly with mum.” Ron shook his head.

“It won’t fly with me either Mr. Potter.” Severus said.

“But they took me in. They didn’t have to. They could have dumped me anywhere!” Harry tried to explain.

“Harry, mate, sometimes I wish they had dumped you.” 

Harry’s eyes widened when Ron said this. He swallowed and then said, “Yeah me too, lot less trouble for everyone.” He added ruefully.

“I meant that then one of the Order would have picked you up and you would have been brought up loved, like you should have been.” Ron said undeterred.

“Who would have wanted me?” Harry said slightly shocked.

“Mum asked for you they tell me. So did Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall was there when you were dropped off trying to convince the Headmaster that is was a bad idea.” Ron said impatiently. 

Snape’s eyebrows went up at this assertion.

“Did your mother tell you all that Mr. Weasley? I hadn’t realized that your parents were with the order that far back.” Severus asked.

Ron nodded vigorously. 

“Mum also told me that you rescued Harry and that you were being really nice to him. She said you were who figured out that he’s a Shefro.” Ron said.

“Well I didn’t really rescue him. Your mother and I formulated a plan to get him away from the Muggles so we could have a look at him.” Snape affirmed.

“Hermione had a hand in it too?” Ron asked.

“She got your mother involved.” Severus said.

“Brilliant.” Said Ron. “Harry and I have been mates for a long time, but sometimes I get the idea that I barely know him. Don’t I sometimes say that Harry?” 

“Yeah.” Harry said, “but I don’t know if I want you to know me. I’m not nice like you think.” He was looking at the afghan now. Poking his fingers through the opening in the pattern.

He sighed. “I was pretty sure that when it came out that I was a creature masquerading as a wizard that my only friend would be Hagrid. He was my first friend. Brought me my first birthday cake, and present and my first ice cream and oh…I can’t tell you all he did. It wouldn’t be a complete loss losing you and Hermione, but Dumbledore, he wants us to be a team and well, how can we be a team if I am some…sick creature.”

Severus was slightly shocked when Ron scooped Harry up from the couch by the shoulders and shook him. “Harry look at me. Look right at me.” He insisted. “I read books and books on Shefro as a kid. I got them from the traveling wizard library. I kept hoping I could one day be one.” He held Harry’s eyes. ”Shit I kept looking under my bag to see if a pussy showed up.” He turned to the gentleman on the floor. “Sorry Professor.” He said red-faced.

“Not to worry Mr. Weasley.” Severus shook his head smiling.

Ron lowered Harry back to the pillow and rubbed his upper arms. “Sorry mate. I just…I always wanted to be somebody special, and here you are somebody special and those … Muggles convinced you that…oh Harry…I’m not good a this stuff. I’m glad you’re a Shefro. I’m sorry they treated you like crap. I’m glad you’re my friend. I’m sorry I shook you.”

Harry was slightly teary eyed, but smiling. “S’okay mate. So we’re still friends then? Even though I lied?”

“Yeah mate. We’re still friends. You didn’t really lie you hid, and I understand why you did. Look though…you’ve got to be straight with me here out, okay?”

“Okay.” Harry said looking at the blanket once again.

“Snap?” Ron asked pulling a deck from his pocket.

Harry nodded enthusiastically and so Severus levered himself off the floor and went to the kitchen.

Miss Weasley was engaged by her mother to slice strawberries into a container at the kitchen table. She looked a little red eyed and a bit down in the mouth, but she smiled readily enough when Severus nicked a slice from the bowl.

“That went well.” He told Molly. 

“Oh, Ron will be thrilled. I had forgotten that kick of his as a kid. He was determined that if he could learn enough magic he could become a Shefro. Ginny here is a bit upset about the idea that Harry hasn’t been eating properly. It never occurred to the poor child that some people didn’t grow up with plenty to eat.” She smiled at her sensitive daughter.

The fire flared green and Arthur Weasley stepped through with two strangers, and Madam Pomfrey.

“Where’s Harry?” Arthur asked immediately after kissing his wife’s cheek and his daughter’s head. 

Snape answered, “Playing snap with your son in the parlor”. He pointed.

“Ah, good.” Arthur nodded. “Molly Weasley, my wife, Ginny, my daughter and Professor Severus Snape, the potion master at Hogwarts. This is Mr. David Meeks and his wife Margaret Meeks from the Filius Sollicitudo Department of the Ministry for Magic. And I am sure you remember Madam Pomfrey.” He introduced them all.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Mrs. Meeks stepped forward. “Please call me Maggie.”

Mrs. Weasley took her hand, “You must both call me Molly.” She embraced the Mediwitch ant then said, “Poppy, it has been too long.” 

Poppy hugged Molly and asked, “Shall we talk first, or should I examine Harry.” She looked between Mrs. Weasley and Professor Snape for her answer.

Professor Snape spoke. “Harry is settled on the couch just now playing snap with the youngest Weasley boy. It would be best I think if he had a moment.” 

He did not mention that he was anxious to find out what the Filius Sollicitudo had to say.

Molly and Arthur quickly set the table for tea. Ginny tried to prolong her stay in the kitchen by helping with the tea things, but she was quickly shooed out.

“Well Arthur. How did things go with the Muggles?” Molly asked.

Arthur got a bitter look on his face and said, “Muggles? I am fascinated by Muggles. They aren’t Muggles, they’re monsters.” 

He relayed the circumstances of his having called the Ministry from Mrs. Figg’s house to get some Filius Sollicitudo Department members to come and interview Mrs. Dursley after she gave him such a dreadful welcome. When he got to the bit where they went to see the lady herself, he was uncertain how much he should tell.

Mr. Meeks took the conversation over at that point. “We have removed Harry from their custody. All his worldly belongings are in the trunk in front of the fireplace there. The Dursleys will both be charged with negligence of a wizard under their care, physical abuse of a wizard under their care, failing to provide the necessities of life, failing to report a special Magical birthright and Mr. Dursley will be charged with Sexual assault of a minor wizard as well.”

He looked around the table to see that the Mediwitch looked ready to jump up and find the child, the Weasleys had both turned red with anger, but when he got to Severus’ face he nearly leapt aside in fright. 

The man had gone a livid white and was near shaking with rage. The air around him was crackling with unused magic and both fists were clenched on the tabletop. This was a stronger reaction than his relationship as a teacher warranted, but the man clearly needed calming down. He put the calming draught he had brought with him on the table and slid it in front of the professor. 

Snape looked at it and nodded, but he took a vial from the inside breast pocket of his jacket and took a sip of it instead. When the storm clouds passed from the professor’s face Mrs. Meeks carried on where her husband had left off.

“Now, we aren’t supposed to tell too much of what we saw, but we need to tell some things to help you care for the young man, so please brace your selves for a few shocks.” When they nodded their readiness she went on again.

“Harry is indeed a Shefro” She began. “They starved him, so you will need to follow the Mediwitch’s advice on how to improve his eating habits and his health. They treated him like a servant and like an animal so you will need to ease him into doing the things you expect a boy his age to do. They also abused him in various ways. This is particularly what I am not meant to reveal too much about. The problem is that if a family gets the idea that the child they are accepting is damaged they start to treat the child as a victim. Harry is a survivor.”

She had choked up so Mr. Meeks took over the narrative once more. “Indeed Harry survived some horrid things, things that would break anyone less strong. This change will be a challenge for him, but I think he can bear it. Harry is very sensitive because he can smell how you feel about him and to some degree he needs to meet your needs. You must not lie to him about what you expect of him. It will confuse him. One other thing you need to know is that Harry’s wings will likely arrive just before his birthday.”

“Ah,” Said Snape. “A late bloomer then?” he asked.

“No, he isn’t” Mrs. Weasley countered, “My Ronald assures me that Harry had well developed body hair when they entered Hogwarts. That’s an early bloomer in my books.”

“Indeed.” Said Mr. Meeks sadly. “We estimate that Harry got his first set of wings shortly before his tenth birthday.” He wasn’t sure how to break this to them.

Madam Pomfrey burst forth with, “Oh no! They had them removed by Muggle doctors. Those ignorant fools.” She looked fit to burst with indignation.

“I’m afraid not madam.” Mr. Meeks said. “They cut them off themselves. They restrained the boy and cut off his wings.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Weasley gasped. Then she recovered herself somewhat and asked tearfully “Did you say they’ll grow back?”

“Yes. From what we witnessed we believe that young Harry’s wings grew back each year, and the Dursleys cut them off as soon as they appeared. They seemed to be able to tell when they would sprout. Harry lost an awful lot of weight when they did. I suppose his magic used up his meager body fat to make them.” Mrs. Meeks related.

Molly broke right down and cried at this. She sobbed, “Oh, Harry, my poor little Harry.”

Snape pressed the calming draught into her hand and she sipped at it. “Madam, later after the child is in bed we shall have a good cry about this, but now we must be strong, yes?” He asked. 

“Yes.” She agreed squaring her shoulders. “But I’d like to cut those people to ribbons.” She confided.

“Mince Madam, mince. Muggles only make good potion ingredients when minced.” He said.

She smiled rather grimly back at him and nodded to the Meeks that they ought to carry on.

Arthur was a little worried about delaying Molly’s reaction. He feared that putting off her emotional outburst would only make it worse in the end, but he supposed that anger was the last thing his black haired son needed to smell right now.

Mr. Meeks produced a contract for Molly and Arthur to sign agreeing that they would care for Harry as their ward until such time as he gained the age of majority.

Mrs. Weasley signed and then assured them that Harry would be one of their children from now until they died, age of independence notwithstanding.

At this point they needed Harry to make the change of guardians complete so Severus went into the sitting room to fetch him.

“Harry, come into the kitchen please.” He said holding out his hand to the boy. 

Harry stood from the couch and folded up the blanket and fluffed the pillow. He had had a marvelous day so far and was prepared to go back to Privet Drive and catch up the work he had missed. He and Ron shook hands and Ginny kissed Harry’s cheek and then he followed his Professor into the kitchen.

He looked round at those gathered in the kitchen of the Burrow. Then he turned to Professor Snape with a questioning look on his face. “It’s all right Harry,” the tall man said. “Sit down.” He motioned to a chair.

Harry stepped up to the table where he could smell the emotional turmoil, the sadness, anger and regret flowing from the people there. He slowed in his approach, unsure of what was happening. He felt the heat of Professor Snape at his back and instinctively leaned into it. 

Severus put a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder and whispered, “Hush” guiding Harry to a seat, and then took the neighboring chair himself.

Mrs. Meeks smiled at him and said, “Harry James Potter we of the Filius Sollicitudo Department of the Ministry for Magic have deemed that Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley are unfit guardians. We have therefore asked Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley if they would be your guardian’s from this time forth. They have agreed. Will you sign your agreement also, before us as witnesses?” She rattled this off formally, but her expression was open and friendly.

A single tear wound its way down Harry’s cheek. “They don’t want me any more?” He asked shakily. He turned to his potions professor. “I was that bad? They don’t…” 

“Hush.” They heard Snape say quietly. “You need to listen to what these people are saying. No one said the Dursleys didn’t want you-“

“But they don’t” Harry said. He had gone very pale and though he held back his tears anyone with a heart could hear them in his voice.

“Listen to me.” Snape placed a finger under Harry’s chin to force him to keep eye contact and to impress his feelings onto the sensitive Shefro instinct. It was tantamount that his little imp understood this.

“They don’t want you because they are fools. They are like people that don’t want evil to go away, or that don’t want ice cream when it’s hot. Anyone with any sense would be proud to have you in their home as their family.” He said very firmly. “But that is not the point. The point is they were deemed unfit. You were not bad…they were bad.” 

Harry looked around the room and saw that the others at the table seemed to think the same thing.

Arthur Weasley said, “The few things that these folks from the Filius department told us happened to you Harry shouldn’t ever happen to anyone, no matter how bad they’ve been.” He assured his new son.

”We went there, Harry.” Mr. Meeks agreed. “We saw how they treated you in her mind. It wasn’t and isn’t right. It is against the laws, both Muggle and Magical. They did not put you out. We took you away from them.” He told the young man in front of him.

Harry sighed. “And you convinced the Weasley’s to take me. Do they even know what I am?” He sounded bewildered.

“Harry.” Arthur said gently. “I started this investigation with the Ministry. I knew you were special when I began it.” 

Harry began to shake his head. They couldn’t know it all, could they?

Mr. Weasley objected. “It is Harry Potter and the Dursleys who do not understand what you young man, not the Weasleys!” His tone softened. “Please Harry, join our family for real. Please.” Arthur let his feeling show in his voice. He was near desperate to get Harry safely within the Weasley fold.

“You really want me here? I’m not like you think.” Harry began to be afraid. How could he live up to their expectations? He didn’t even know what they wanted of him. He wasn’t like Ron, or Ginny or even Fred or George. He was a lot more trouble than all the rest of the Weasley’s combined. He was sure of it.

“Hush.” Severus said again. He could see Harry getting worked up again. Harry breathed deeply, reassuring himself.

“If I sign this are they stuck with me?” Harry asked Mr. Meeks.

He blinked a few times in surprise, but answered. “No Harry, this contract is only for a month. See here,” he pointed. “At the end of 30 days you all must come to the ministry. We review your case with the doctor and the councilor and then we decide if the placement is best for everyone.”

“Try Harry.” Mr. Weasley said. 

Harry sensed a genuine desire to have him live with the family. “I’ll try sir.” He agreed. 

He gingerly picked up the quill on the table. He stroked the feather once gently and breathed in its scent reverently. The gentle way he handled the feather was not lost on several at that table. 

He held the quill down low firmly between his thumb and first two fingers, dipped it into the ink and scratched his name at the bottom.

For thirty days Harry Potter would become a Weasley. For the first time the summer day looked like it would herald better days ahead.


	25. Harry Has Visitors

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

Note: I have some kind of stinking virus. It is making me sick. Please forgive me if there are errors in this chappie.

Sly

Chapter 25 In Which Harry Has Visitors

The weeks in July flew by for Harry. He always enjoyed staying at the Burrow. The only uncomfortable things he really had to deal with were the first few visits from the councilor and the Mediwitch. The very first visit was the hardest of all, for everyone.

At first everything was fine. The councilor sat back and observed the Mediwitch as she handled the boy’s physical care. Because the Mediwitch had had the Weasley's permission, she ran some of the more intrusive tests that are never carried out at Hogwarts without a parent present.

The tests resulted in a list of the young Shefro’s injuries. It then spouted out a list of the maladies he was suffering from as well. She seemed amazed that he was sitting upright at all when she saw the list of hurts combined with the complications of 15 years of malnutrition. It appeared as a long ribbon streaming from the end of her wand.

She completed her examination and informed the councilor and Harry that he was miraculously healthy for a young man, who had been starved, kept in the dark, had his nose broken and his rib bruised in addition to being forced unconscious through lack of air twice, all in the past two weeks. She said that her spelled wand had created a written report, which would be sent to both the councilor and Mrs. Weasley the next morning.

She attributed Harry’s relative health to his magic’s ability to succor him. She said that his levels of magic were low. He was running at approximately half the power of Ron or Ginny. She was unsure how much magic was full strength for Harry, but added that each year he probably didn’t stay at the school and maintain a proper diet for long enough to approach his full potential before returning to Privet Drive.

Once she was done her physical examination and informed the councilor of the results she sat down to take her turn as observer while the wizard who was to help young Potter with his mental health took over their joint session.

Harry hadn’t understood what the councilor was there for. He thought that the man’s job was to prepare Harry to fit in better with wizards. To train him with corporal punishment and reinforced repetition of tasks and phrases to be what the Weasleys needed him to be. 

The councilor said to Harry, “Tell me Harry, what is your greatest wish?”

“To be normal?” Harry said uncertainly, waiting to see if it was the correct answer.

The councilor chuckled at his patient’s desire to give the right answer. “Oh, no young man. Do not ask me. I need you to tell me. What do you wish for more than anything else?” This is a standard kind of question which people ask when they want someone to begin talking about him or herself.

Harry cocked his head to the side rather like a bird trying to get a good look at something on the ground. “But if you don’t tell me what I am supposed to want, how shall I know?” He asked timidly. Often in his training with the Dursleys he had forgotten information from day to day and was punished badly for it.

“Surely you know what you want; eloquent young man like you. I heard you talking to your professor in the kitchen before we came in for your examination. You were asking him about permeable potions. Quite interesting if a bit beyond me…” He tapered off hoping that Harry would then begin to speak, but Harry didn’t speak. They sat for three or four minutes like that. Then the councilor began to cajole the boy trying to get him to talk. 

Harry was pretty sure he’d figured out what was going on. His uncle had given him training sessions like this too. He had learned how to stay silent when being questioned or derided or talked about. To show that he didn't have an opinion. He knew this game.

After ten minutes the councilor said, “Well if you don’t want to talk to me, just sit there and I am going to come back in a few minutes and then we will begin again.” 

He and Madam Pomfrey exited the parlor where they had taken Harry and adjourned to the kitchen to give Harry a moment to decide he wanted to talk.

Severus and Molly had settled in there. Severus was there to get the list of nutrient and calming potions that Poppy ordered. He also wanted to take the time Harry was in the meeting to talk to Molly a bit about the young man. As well anything that brought Snape into Harry’s sphere of existence the potions master would do.

They stopped talking about dismembering the Dursleys the moment they were joined by the other two. 

“That was short.” Molly said looking up at Poppy.

Poppy sat beside her at the table. “We’re not done.” She said. “Just taking a break.”

Severus looked up at the councilor surprised. “What’s wrong?” He asked wondering at them leaving the young Shefro alone in the middle of his first session.

“Oh, it’s all right.” The councilor assured him. “He is a tough nut to crack, but I’ll find a way in. Sometimes they develop tough exteriors, abused children, but inside they feel just as keenly as you and I.” He nodded serenely.

Severus drew his brows together in a frown. “Harry is the type that wears his heart on his sleeve sir. In addition being a Shefro would mean he feels _more_ keenly than the rest of us!” He stood and moved to go to his little imp.

The councilor looked confused and followed. He was biting his tongue. He always tried to follow the lead of those who knew his patients best. He would wait to see what would come of this new intervention.

Severus went quietly into the parlor and watched Harry from behind. The boy was sitting rigidly. His posture perfect, hands clasped in lap, feet tucked in under the edge of the sofa on which he was perched. His face held the expression one finds on a person who is well satisfied with their performance at a task. 

He walked around in front of Harry and came into his field of vision. The younger man’s composure slipped for a moment, but then his face took on a very neutral expression. “Why aren’t you talking to the councilor?” Severus asked straightforwardly.

Harry had felt his pleasant face slip and couldn’t regain it, so he put on his neutral face. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep it though. They were using his precious Professor as a part of his training! Could he take this? He thought not. The first person to ever hug him when he cried, the first person to ever hold him on his lap, the first person to run their fingers through his hair, the first person he ever thought of kissing, the first man he had ever wanted to want him. 

Some time in the middle of this train of thought Harry unwittingly began to cry. He had opened his heart to the tall dark man before him and he couldn’t close the connection as easily. He had thought he could always talk to Severus, but if the point of the lessons was to learn silence then Harry should. But he couldn’t could he?

Snape saw the tears begin to form in Harry’s eyes. There was an internal struggle happening here. He was sure of it. The councilor, Poppy and Molly had all come in, but Harry didn’t seem to register them. He was focused entirely on the ebony eyes before him.

When the tears began to fall the older man tried to stand firm. He knew it was bad form to intrude on the boy’s grief unasked. By the fourth tear he had lost his battle and moved forward. He raised his hand to wipe the tear from Harry’s cheek, but instantly the cheek was no longer there. Harry had slid off the sofa and dashed away to stand against the wall. 

All three of the others in the room stepped forward, but Severus stilled them with a single gesture. They needed to hear what Harry would say. 

They didn’t have long to wait. His back to the wall, hands braced against it, posture still rigid, huge green eyes were wide with pleading.

“Not you. Oh please. Not you. Let someone else punish me…anyone…not you. I’ll take twice the punishment…I can’t not talk to you. I can’t remain silent with you. If you ask I have to answer…I can’t help…I’m sorry…in training…anyone else…not you…please sir…oh please…you were…yesterday…oh-“ 

Harry’s voice was clearly annunciated, but it was soft, so soft. It was as though he was trying to be silent and couldn't. He was afraid to make too much noise, but he was able to neither make his sentences polished and polite, nor to make them stop.

The Mediwitch and councilor stood amazed when they saw the rapid change of the young man's demeanor as the panic quickly set in. In the next moment they were shocked again. Harry's inability to control is mouth stopped instantly the moment Severus said, “Hush.” 

Poppy herself nearly had a heart attack when Professor Snape held open his arms to Harry James Potter and instantly had his hands full of sobbing teenager. Harry dashed out from the wall and into the potion master's arms. Severus rocked slightly under the force the young man's surrender and body bowed backwards slightly. Once his arms closed around Harry he was barely visible, encompased by Severus volumous robes.

There were few minutes of near silent, but rather violent crying. There were also whispered bursts of “thank you” and “so kind” that were nearly lost in the midnight folds of cloth that enveloped the young man. After a while Harry grew more quiet, but he also became a increasingly unsteady on his feet and limp, so Severus scooped him up and sat down with Harry on his lap, much in the same posture Molly had witnessed before. 

Snape applied his fingers to Harry’s hair raking it back from his face and taking out his omnipresent handkerchief he wiped the young man’s tears and even helped him blow his nose. Then he cast scourgify on the square of silk and tucked it away once more.

Molly looked Harry over and noticed that while the little man’s back hand was comfortably looped behind the potion master’s back and resting on his shoulder, his front hand had come to rest on his tummy.

She gestured at Severus and pointed to Harry's stomach.

“Pain anywhere?” He asked tersely.

“Stomach sir.” Harry answered.

Severus nodded. “Molly would you please make Harry a cup of ginger tea? It will settle his delicate stomach after his upset.”

She bustled off to follow the request, happy that Harry was safely tucking into Snape’s lap. Funny that the only time she felt secure about the boy being out of her sight was when he was ensconced in the arms of a man twice his age.

Harry scowled for a moment and then smiled.

Severus quirked an eyebrow, “What?”

“I was about to protest that I wasn’t delicate because Uncle always told me that it was bad to be fragile, but you said I don’t ever need to lie to you or pretend with you, so I realized that I can admit to being delicate with you.” He said shrugging happily.

The councilor retook his seat and picked up his notebook. Poppy hovered uncertainly.

“I am not angry with you in any way, but I want to know what happened. Harry, the councilor says you wouldn’t talk to him?” Severus almost thought the man was making it up. His little one was so biddable; he always followed the path he thought his mentors wanted him to take.

“The gentleman asked me what I wished for, but he wouldn’t tell me the answers.” Harry looked at his hand curled in his lap. “I can’t retrain without knowing the answers. Tell him please that I am too dunderheaded for that.” Harry looked up…his eyes begging.

Severus pursed his lips. He turned to the councilor who was silently motioning Poppy to take her seat.

“Sir, this young man needed explicit instructions about what your sessions was going to entail and what your goal was." Snape said.

The wizard seated across from them nodded his understanding. He was reluctant to speak and break their rapore.

"Might I suggest you formulate a succinct answer for him that he can hold on to during emotional crisis?” He asked. 

The councilor looked the dark eyed man over and nodded his agreement once more. He realized that this man before him had managed to get through to his patient and was trying to bring the boy out of himself. He began to write on the pad he had brought.

“Harry. What did you think this wizard was here for?” Snape man asked the little one in his lap.

“Ron said that councilors fix up people’s minds so that they can get on with things after something bad happens.” Harry said. 

“Elaborate.” Snape ordered gently.

“I thought that he was here to teach me the Weasley’s rules. You know…fix me up to be a better…pet? I think…for them. You know training.” Harry said waving his hand in a gesture that clearly meant it was a simple thing to understand.

“And you didn’t speak because?” Snape led the young man.

“I hadn’t been told what my one wish was meant to be as this new “Harry Potter” he shrugged.

“Harry do you have the contract the Meeks gave you?” Snape asked.

“Yes.” Harry said excitedly. “I never had ownership papers before. Do you want to see them?” He was practically bouncing with joy.

“Please” Snape answered.

Harry brought them out of his shorts pocket and opened them up, flattening them.

Severus took the paper and skimmed it, then he turned it around again.

“See here Harry? It says that you are to be brought into the _Weasley family as one of their children_ and that you will have _equal rights with all natural children._ Do you see it?” He dipped his head down to catch Harry’s eyes as they avidly scanned the paper.

He felt the magic gathering in the room and Harry’s back tensing against his arm. The boys lips had thinned to a line and he looked to be wavering between sorrow and anger. His eyes were fixed on the contract in his lap.

Severus folded the paper over so that the words were hidden and whispered, “Hush precious one.” As he squeezed the narrow shoulder gently to ground his little imp. Harry was shaking with emotion.

“What’s the matter?” He asked in a soothing voice.

“The Weasleys were tricked.” Harry whispered vehemently. When his eyes met Snape's eyes they were filled with regret and guilt. 

He sadly told Snape, “This is terrible. They think that I’m a person!”


	26. Harry Gets a Wish.

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

**Chapter 27 In which Harry Gets a Wish.**

 

“You are a person Harry.” Severus sighed.

“You won’t say that when you see what happens before my birthday…and besides if you knew…if you knew…” He trailed off. Having given up trying to find words he just pointed at his groin.

“My angel. We all know. We know that you will sprout beautiful wings that match the color of your hair the day before your birthday. We also know that you possess the female genitalia and that your male genitalia is rather small as a result. Some of us have even gathered from how low your red blood cell count is that you are currently experiencing your menstrual cycle.” He said very, very calmly.

“That means I’m not-“ Harry began.

“Don’t say that again.” Snape ordered softly. “They were wrong. The Dursleys were wrong. They filled your head with dreadful untruths about yourself.”

Harry shook his head doubtfully, but they could all see he was making headway.

Molly pressed the tea into Harry’s hands. “Wizards are many and varied Harry. We come with red hair and blond, white skin and dark. Some of us are born among Muggles, some are born half giants and once in long and long there is born the most special of wizards, the Shefro.” She said as he sipped. 

She sat next to Severus on the couch and peered at Harry. “I can’t wait to see your wings. Mrs. Meeks said that even only five minutes old, seen through your aunt’s eyes, they were beautiful.” She sighed happily.

He looked a little tearfully at Snape.

Severus dearly wanted Harry to give them a chance to try to know the real him.

“Do you believe in democracy?” He asked leadingly.

“No.” Harry said.

“Why not?” Molly asked, a bit shocked.

Harry hesitated until Severus whispered, “The truth,” In his ear.

“Majority rules could just mean that a whole lot of fools agree on something.” He said quietly.

Molly laughed.

Severus’ smiled a quirky little smile. “You think the smartest man should make the decision?”

“Only if he is well informed.” Harry replied.

“And of our little group here, who is the most informed?” Snape asked. He knew that Harry’s ego would never allow him to choose himself.

Harry looked between Poppy, Severus and Molly for a few minutes. “You sir.” He said.

“Well then, I believe that you are a person, and a very special one at that. Now this gentleman is here to help you try to relearn about yourself and life, right?” He turned and directed this last question at the councilor.

“Indeed.” Said the councilor. “It is my job to help you learn to be true to your real self in a way that allows you to encounter and interact with your peers in a meaningful way.” 

Severus nodded at this succinct definition of their goals.

Harry nodded that he understood. 

Poppy finally resigned herself to the fact that a student was cuddled up in his gay teacher’s lap having therapy.

The councilor continued. “In order to do this I need to know a bit about who you have been and who you want to be so that perhaps we can bridge the past with the future you want. I need you to answer all of my questions truthfully and as fully as you are able. I also will need you to do various exercises designed to help you identify your own emotions and desires.”

“Harry, you must promise to tell the councilor the truth.” Severus insisted.

“I will try, but it was so hard to think…without you here.” Harry admitted. He was a little afraid of the councilor and more afraid of what he would find in the depths of his own mind.

Severus closed his eyes. He dearly wished to offer his support to this exquisite creature that he loved, but didn’t want to be detrimental to Harry’s treatment.

The councilor said, “Professor Snape, if you have the time and inclination, I believe we would run smoother, at least at first, if Harry had you to support him.” 

Severus shocked Poppy and Molly by breaking into an all out smile. “That is my dearest wish sir.” He said.

“Speaking of dearest wish…I believe that’s where we started. Harry I asked you to tell me your dearest wish. Take a moment and think. If you had one wish what would you ask for?” The councilor asked.

“Can I change the past?” Asked Harry immediately.

“No.” Said the councilor. “I want you to focus on the future and on the now. What would you wish for?”

Harry blushed to his roots and began to stammer, “I would wish…I wish...”

“Take your time,” The councilor soothed.

“Oh, I don’t need any time sir, just nerve.” He closed his eyes. “I would wish for a kiss.” He said bravely.

The councilor leaned forward.

“A kiss? Is it a specific kiss? From someone special?” He asked.

Harry’s eyes drifted closed. “Very special.” He smiled.

“Who would you like to kiss you Harry?” The councilor asked. He had his suspicions, but the young man needed to learn to take emotional risks if he was going to heal. He sat forward with his fingers crossed. Hoping the young man was strong enough to share something from deep within.

“The truth?” He asked very timidly, half to the councilor, half to the man whose lap he occupied.

“The truth.” They both said rather softly. 

“Severus Snape.” Harry whispered.

Molly smiled, Poppy restrained a gasp and Snape very nearly fainted from relief. He had been wound up tighter than a drum waiting to hear that Cho Chang or Ginny Weasley was the girl of his young love’s dreams. All his long years, his spirit had never felt drawn to another. 

His body had had plenty of action, but his heart had remained strangely quiet. He had thought himself incapable of the feelings he harbored for the petite wonder on his lap. He had reveled in the intoxicating feeling but had never hoped it would be requited in any way. He was reeling with joy.

The councilor smiled knowingly.

Harry trembled slightly. He had expected outright rejection and was relieved to not be faced with a very angry potions master.

He was watching the man’s face and trying to decide what the complex array of scents coming off him meant.

Severus’ eyes had drifted closed, but he opened them now to meet the emerald orbs before him.

“Oh, my angel, my little one.” He said longingly. “How I long to make your wish come true, but you are too young yet. A few weeks will see you old enough for kisses, though not much else.” He said reigning in his desperate need to taste the pink lips before him.

Harry’s uncertain smile turned into a gentle pout. He was completely unaware how adorable it made him. Both of the women in the room very nearly awed at how sweet he looked.

Tears welled in his eyes, but did not fall. He was not truly disappointed, for he had not expected to have his wish granted.

“Do not be sad little one.” Severus caressed Harry’s face. He couldn’t resist. “It is only a little more than a fortnight to wait.” He encouraged.

Harry shook his head sadly. “When you see what happens before my birthday you won’t want a kiss.“ He assured the man.

“But I will.” Severus assured him.

“You want to wait and see how very horrid I am before you decide, don’t you?” Harry asked earnestly. “It’s okay. I understand completely.” He smiled gently and rested his head against Severus shoulder considering the matter closed. He closed his eyes for a moment the better to enjoy the heady emotions coming off of the normally dour man beneath him.

Severus looked from Molly to Poppy and back to Molly again. Molly nodded once. The potions master shut out everyone else in the room and focused on his angel. He threaded his hand through Harry’s hair and rubbed his scalp gently. Harry’s eyes opened.

“You are wrong little one, but I have been given permission to steal one kiss before you are sixteen.” He took his hand from Harry’s hair to gesture toward Molly then dropped it to the sofa beside him.

“We may have one kiss and it will be here, where Mrs. Weasley is present to maintain decorum. It is not your wings I am worried about Harry, but your reputation.” He said.

Harry’s smile could have lit the room. “Really? Oh.” He was breathing excitedly and was near tears with joy. He closed his eyes and stilled himself. When he opened his eyes Severus noted that his pupils had dilated and anticipation filled his gaze. 

Harry deposited his teacup on the table next to him. The he lifted Severus his long fingered hand from the sofa. He took his other arm from behind Snape and held Severus’ hand with both of his. With the knuckles of the potion master’s hand turned up Harry held it firmly but gently. Slowly he raised it toward his face. His eyes fixed on Severus’ as he breathed in the scent of this man. He memorized the smell, weight and texture of this part of the potions master.

He ran his fingertips across the palm of Severus hand underneath and then drew the hand to his lips to dust the knuckles. Their gazes locked and then he pressed his lips to the back of Snape’s hand with soundless reverence. He closed his eyes and dropped his head to rub first one cheek and then the other across the back of Severus hand.

The potions master nearly groaned aloud at the attention his little angel was showing him. His heart pounded and his mouth went dry. Who would have thought that such an old fashioned gesture could mean so much?

When Harry’s hold on his hand loosened, Severus flipped it over and cupped Harry’s chin with it, bringing his face back up into view. His pupils were very dilated now and his breath was rapid. 

The potions master switched his grip on the young man so he could hold his face between both his big hands. Very slowly, alert for any sign of fear he lowered his face to Harry’s, kissing first his forehead, then each eyelid, his nose and then finally those delicious lips. The kiss was nearly chaste, a press of closed, but relaxed mouths, noses side by side. 

So quietly that he was sure no one but he, or Harry could hear, his little one groaned and then flicked out his tongue to taste Severus bottom lip. The younger man trembled and pulled away, sure he had done wrong. Severus slid his hands down quickly from Harry’s head to his shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace. 

“Oh, gods, my sweet angel. I want to kiss you forever.” He breathed in Harry’s ear.

“Really?” Harry’s whisper sounded amazed.

“Oh, yes.” Severus assured, moving closer to Harry’s ear so the young man could feel his breath stirring his hair.

“Even though I licked your lip,” Harry asked, barely audible, as he nuzzled into Severus neck.

“Especially since you licked my lip.” He whispered giving in and kissing the shell of the ear in front of his lips.

Severus took his face away from the temptation that was Harry Potter and laid the young man’s head on his chest, wrapped in both arms about his slender shoulders

Harry could see Mrs. Weasley on the other side of the sofa. She was smiling misty eyed at him.

“How long to my birthday?” Harry asked aloud.

“19 days” Molly said smiling.

“Oh gods!” Harry groaned.

Molly dissolved into laughter and even Poppy managed a smile.


	27. Dumbledore pays a Visit to the Weasleys

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

****Chapter 27: In Which Dumbledore pays a Visit to the Weasleys**

 

The rest of Harry's counseling sessions went somewhat more smoothly than the first one had. He now understood the purpose of them and therefore knew what he was meant to do.

They did, however, tend to be longer and were often much more draining emotionally than that first brief meeting had been. Harry was normally so exhausted by their meetings he fell asleep directly after them. 

On some occasions he fell asleep in Severus arms, while seated on his lap, after a long jag of crying. This was good for them both actually. It allowed Harry to rest in complete safety and security, and it allowed Snape time to acclimatize himself to the person his young love truly was.

It was on one such occasion, two weeks after that first session, that Professor Albus Dumbledore entered the Burrow by use of the floo network. He brushed off his loudly colored robes and looked about himself. 

Outside the kitchen window he could see the youngest two Weasleys drifting lazily on their broomsticks in the yard. He did not see a black haired boy with them, and so he followed the sounds of quite voices into the parlor.

Upon entering that room he could see the backs of Mrs. Weasley and Professor Snape's heads. When he rounded the sofa to stand in front of it, he was quite surprised to see the young man upon whom he had come to check ensconced on his potions professor's lap. 

The little imp was curled up like a cat. He was sleeping peacefully, but tear tracks had dried on his face. Albus seated himself across from the oddly matched trio in a comfy, if somewhat worn arm chair.

Professors Dumbledore and Lupin had both been informed by letter of Harry's change of address. They had both been told likewise that Harry had been removed from the care of his relatives by the Filius Sollicitudo Department of the Ministry for Magic. Dumbledore himself was aware of the charges that the Meeks had profured against the Dursleys. It was something he could not be ignorant of, as a member of the Wizengamot. 

For a long while he did not speak. He merely looked at Harry sadly. Both he and Lupin had been told not to come running for a look at Harry. The councilor did not feel it wise for him to be subjected to curiosity at this point. 

He told them all that an outpouring of concern at this moment would cause the young man to feel more as though he were unusual. This would be a bad move at a time where they wanted him to understand that he was not a freak or an anomaly in any way.

Anyone not on the spot was encouraged to write to him, and ask him how he was and if he was happy. Lupin had written him a number of times. He was involved in trying to infiltrate the werewolf community, that were working for Voldemort. As a result he wrote to the young shefro calling him Jamie and often in terms that would be more readily applied to a young lover than the son of some childhood friends. It made Harry feel good knowing that Remus cared enough to suffer the embarrassment of pretending he had a young girlfriend, rather than to forgo writing altogether on the excuse of blowing his cover.

Dumbledore had written with no less frequency, but hadn't had to disguise to whom he was writing. Harry had enjoyed the wizard post cards from Europe the old man sent to him. In the last two weeks he had had more mail than he normally saw over a whole summer. 

When he looked a little shocked by their steady correspondence Molly had teasingly told him that not everyone chose to show their support by coming to his counseling sessions and cuddling with him. Harry was embarrassed at that. He had giggled and ducked his head in much the same manner Ginny did when teased about her snogging sessions with Dean. 

Albus had told Harry he would come and see him when he returned to England and so here he was. The old man roused himself from a long line of recriminating thoughts, that began with the words 'if only' and poured himself out a cup of tea. Molly noticed that no steam rose from the cup and performed a warming charm on both the cup and the pot of tea.

Harry began to rouse at the slight rustle and Snape's attention went from the obviously deeply regretful old man across from him to the sleepy young man in his lap. He finger combed Harry's hair back from his eyes and inspected him. Harry curled tighter into Snape for a hug and then pivoted around to get himself a cup of tea. He had doctored his tea sleepily and taken his first sip when he noticed his headmaster sitting across from him.

He began to slide out of Severus lap, but the older man curled an arm around his waist and settled him more firmly. At this Harry's face lit up with delight. He was so pleased that the potions master wasn't embarrassed to be caught cuddling with him, and by someone who knew he was a shefro at that. 

It was at that moment, when Harry's smile was it's brightest, that the twinkle returned to the old blue eyes across from him. It was almost as though the little Gryffindor Lion's happiness re-ignited them. One side of Severus mouth curled up into what Molly now recognized as a common, natural expression of pleasure on his face. 

“Professor Dumbledore, sir. How was Europe?” Harry asked.

“It was lovely Harry. I trust you got my pictures? I kept a set for myself as well. Truly lovely.” the old man replied.

“And your business Albus?” Molly asked curiously.

“Oh, yes. They promised their aid. They don't like the idea of England having a Dark Overlord ruling her any more than we do. Men like Tom don't like to stop at just one country you know.” He smirked at her.

Molly nodded and Snape sighed. 

“Also I believe I am getting somewhere in my research as well. I have been looking into Voldemort's past and I think I may have hit upon something, well we will see.” He trailed off as though he really thought that he ought to not get into it just yet before he had more information.

“Did you know the Minister of Magic came to see Harry?” Molly sniffed disapprovingly. 

“Really?” Albus asked Harry.

“Yes sir.” Harry replied. “He wanted me to have my picture taken with him and say that I support the efforts he is making to stop Voldemort. He was most displeased when I refused. I mean, I don't even know what he is trying to do. It looks like not much of anything really. He's got these pamphlets. People are supposed to report any unusual things they see and test their relatives to see it they are under Imperio...Have you seen them?” Harry asked.

“The pamphlets? Yes.” Dumbledore confirmed.

“Well” Molly huffed, “then when Harry wouldn't play along he set my Percy against him. Percy is a good boy Professor he just wants to please his boss.” She excused.

“It's okay Molly. I didn't mind.” Harry said. “Percy and I were never...well close...you know.” Harry shrugged. “Anyway, I think they ought to have people practicing their Patronus charms. All this mist, I am sure it is Dementors, but he didn't even want to talk about that!” Harry began to get excited about the things he thought they could be telling people to protect themselves.

“Oh, and everybody should carry a bottle of Veritas Serum. Say I was your friend or something and wanted your help or something, but my request seemed a little strange. If I wouldn't take the potion and tell you that I wasn't working for Voldemort you would know not to help me.” The young man gestured with his hand as though the answer was very simple. 

“I don't suppose he wanted to hear your ideas at all did he?” Dumbledore asked smiling.

Harry shook his head. He finished his tea and put his cup and saucer on the table.

“Thank you Mrs Weasley that hit the spot. Shall I help you with the washing up? It would leave the professors to discuss whatever the headmaster wanted Professor Snape for.” Harry began gathering the various tee things and piling them on the tea tray.

“Actually Harry, I came to see you.” Albus said.

“Oh.” Harry stopped and for the second time his face lit up, but this time there was an expectant cast to his features. “Is there something I can do for you sir?” He asked hopefully.

The young shefro was very happy with the Weasleys but he often felt like no one here really needed him for anything. He was nearly desperate to be allowed to help some one in some way that made him feel useful.

Ever the student of human nature, Albus caught on to Harry's eagerness to help and he immediately hit on a scheme that would satisfy his student and truly aid him as well.

“I would like you to come with me and convince Professor Slughorn to come out of retirement and teach at Hogwarts this year. I believe his memory holds a piece of the puzzle that is Tom Riddle. He taught potions when Riddle was a student you know.” Dumbledore told them.

Harry nodded eagerly and then cocked his head to the side. “If professor Slughorn is going to teach potions what will Professor Snape teach?” Harry asked a little nervously.

Albus turned to the dark haired professor. “I'd like you to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this year Severus.” Albus said.

Harry spun around delighted, but paused when he noticed that his older love did not look pleased. “Isn't that the job you always wanted?” He asked curiously.

Snape gave a little laugh. “No. The job I always wanted was making potions.” He said cryptically.

“Oh.” Harry was a little confused. “I was told that you were after poor Quirrell's job the first year I was at school.”

“Harry, I am sure you have noticed that I am not much of a teacher.” Snape raised his eyebrows.

Harry nodded a little smile on his lips.

“I am sure you also noticed that I am called a Potions Master where Professor McGonagall is referred to as a Transfiguration Teacher.” Severus continued.

Harry nodded again.

“Well that is because I have my master's degree in potions. I wanted to open a potion shop, but well, it wasn't in the cards.” He sighed. “The dark lord wanted me to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, so that I would be inside the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.” He explained.

“Yes,” Dumbledore mused. “Professor Snape came to me telling me that he had been sent to spy on me for Voldemort's cause. I think he hoped I would have him arrested or executed. He was most disgusted with himself when he told me his tale.” He smiled to himself. The confident gentleman on the sofa before him was so far and above the disturbed young man who had come to him years ago. 

Harry was listening with rapt attention. Severus was looking at Albus a bit strangely. 

“I offered him the potions post and a tenure. Voldemort couldn't complain really because Severus had got inside the school, and permanently too. So the potions master became a potions professor.” He smiled devilishly at his young friend. “That was what? The September right after young Harry was born?” He asked pointedly.

Severus shifted uncomfortably and looked over Harry's head at Albus with haunted eyes, though his hands pulled the young man in question even closer.

Albus forced a smile for Harry who was giggling with Molly, but he made a mental note of Severus upset.

“So the rumor that you wanted to teach Dark Arts was false?” Harry asked the man upon whom he was sitting.

“Indeed.” Said Severus. 

Harry sat quiet for a bit his thoughts turning.

“Professor Snape sir, did a lot of people know you were going to try for the Defense post?” Harry asked thoughtfully.

“No.” The man answered.

“Funny. It was Percy who told me you wanted the post. He said it as though it was a little known fact. It was also him who gave Scabbers to Ron.” Harry observed.

Molly looked around at Harry already on the defensive, but she was silent. 

“Who is Scabbers?” Albus asked. He could see Snape also wanted to know.

“Ron's rat.” Molly said dismissively. She stood and took up the tea tray. 

“I'll wash these up myself Harry. You'll want to have a wash before you go out with Professor Dumbledore.” She said as she carried it away.

Albus was still peering at Harry inquisitively.

Harry watched until the kitchen door closed. Then he said very quietly. “Scabbers _was_ Ron's rat. In third year, in the shrieking shack, Sirius cast a revealing spell on him. He was really Peter Pettigrew, my parent's secret keeper, who betrayed them to Voldemort, in his animagus form.” He shrugged uncertainly. 

“I am not saying that there's anything wrong with Percy.” He said firmly. “But it might be very educational to find out where he got a rat, that was part of Voldemort's inner circle and where he heard that rumor.”

They all looked thoughtful for a moment and then Harry asked, “How long before you want to go sir?” 

Dumbledore looked at his pocket watch and said, “Half an hour my boy.”

“I'll nip upstairs and shower,” he said. He gave Severus a hug and then scampered off.

“He loves you.” Albus told Snape.

“I think he may.” The younger professor said.

“What troubles you then?” Albus asked. “When I left you, you had no hope of ever winning his affections, but I return to find him curled up in your lap. You should be triumphant!” He stated his confusion.

Severus took in a breath and let it out in a huff. “Sometime I am. Sometimes I wonder...His uncle, the one that is charged with sexual assault of a minor?”

Albus nodded grimly, focusing on Snape, although he saw Molly reenter the parlor quietly behind the sofa.

“Two years older than me.” Snape stated. “Only two years Albus.” he shook his head. “Is that me?” He asked. He seemed to be talking as much to the air as to his one true friend. “Am I a child molester?” 

He lowered his face into his hands.

Molly sat beside him and put an arm across his shoulders. “You would never coerce Harry. You would never force him. Anything he consents to is nobody's business by his. We have been over this time and again.” She chided.

Severus raised his face and looked at her. “It's just...today in session.” He tried to explain.

She seemed to understand. “Harry wants you to be interested in him.” She reminded him. “He told us yesterday that the least scent of arousal in you does not frighten him. Moreover, it makes him feel like maybe someday he'll be like everyone else. That he'll feel that with someone.” 

Albus could hardly believe that Molly was supporting the match, but as he listened it became clear that the councilor wanted them all to face the fact that Harry was nearly sexually mature and should be developing a thriving interest in sex. 

Molly clearly understood that, and although she wanted Harry to be safe sexually, she did not want him to feel guilty about having sensual feelings. They had to be discussed openly in order to allow him to come to terms with his past and have a healthy attitude in the future.

She turned the conversation back to Harry and the plans they had made. “You'll give him the promise ring on his birthday and that will be the beginning of a year's formal courtship. Harry won't feel any pressure if you remember not to be alone with him. We'll all chaperon for you, even Ron said he would.” The plan was for Severus to collect the kiss promised him and a promise of a deeper relationship with his sweet angel.

Albus was shown the ring and praised it. He was so relieved to see that Harry and Severus and the Weasleys were making huge strides toward Harry's emotional health. He was even more pleased that both of his “boys” would have someone to love and someone to love them back. 

A while later Ron and Ginny stood in the yard watching the boy they considered their dark haired brother apparate away with their headmaster after giving them both a wave. He looked like he was off for a visit with someone.

“He looked happy.” Ron said quietly to Ginny.

Ginny nodded in the direction of the door to the kitchen where Professor Snape who was gazing after the departed pair. “He looks happier.” She giggled.

Ron grinned and they swooped up into the air on their broomsticks with renewed vigor.


	28. Harry Tries to Keep a Secret

**** Chapter 28: In Which Harry Tries to Keep a Secret.**

Hermione arrived two days after Harry's trip out with Professor Dumbledore to convince their new potions professor to come to Hogwarts and teach them. She asked her dark haired friend to reveal all that he had observed of the man. Ron added every that was told them by Professors Dumbledore and Snape about him as well. 

Molly had realized that for the first little while of Hermione’s visit, the boys wouldn't want to share her with Ginny. As a result Ginny had been conveniently invited to visit her favorite aunt for a few days. She was scheduled to return the morning of Harry's birthday. Molly understood that it was just a case of the older children wanting to talk of more adult things. Had she known how adult their subject was, she, perhaps, would not have left them to their own devices.

The three took advantage of this unheard of privacy and discussed the mating mists of the Dementors and Harry unburdened himself of some of his thoughts. 

Now that it was just the three of them Harry confided in his two best friends that Dumbledore really wanted Slughorn at the school so that he could pick the professor's brains about his memories of one Tom Riddle. He thought that the headmaster was very close to finding out how Voldemort had managed to survive so many deaths and how he had transformed himself from the vulnerable 17 year old boy that Harry had met in the diary, to the seemingly unassailable monster he had become by the time he killed Harry's parents. Hermione agreed that his evidence pointed in that direction.

Harry also tabled his idea that Percy had somehow fallen in with a death eater. Someone who would provide him with Scabbers, as well as the tidbit about Snape. Neither of the other two was surprised by this revelation. 

Ron and Hermione both thought very little of Percy. He gravitated to the most powerful person who could puff up his already over-inflated ego. The youngest Weasley boy had often pointed out that his older brother would sell his family out for power and respect. Ron also reminded both of the others that Percy had worked under Barty Crouch Senior when he had been suffering the imperious curse at the hands of a Death Eater. He had also encouraged Ron several times to abandon Harry. Percy had expressed vehemently that Harry was a glory hound during the Goblet of Fire games. He had called Harry a panic monger the following year when he was publicly denounced as a liar when that Umbridge woman had taught at the school.

Harry had always tried very hard to like Percy. Hermione had really admired him. They began to feel distrustful of him now though. He was either corrupt himself, or was being influenced by a corrupt friend.

“Oh, and do you realize.” Harry said, “That both Percy and Riddle were head boy in their day?”

“Yeah, that's true, isn't it.” Agreed Ron.

Hermione nodded. “It does show a certain grasping for power. He seemed to enjoy the power of his head boy duty the same way Malfoy likes lording over people that he is a prefect.” She added thoughtfully.

“And Percy was lurking around the area of the Slytherin common room when you two posed as Crabbe and Goyle!” Harry added.

He looked down in his lap. “I think we should write out these suspicions and present them to Professor Snape.” He suggested.

Hermione had been told by letter that her best friend had developed an attachment to their potions professor, but his suggestion still took her slightly aback.

“I take it your opinion of Professor Snape has changed then?” She asked.

Harry nodded quickly and colored deeply while twisting his hands in his lap. He didn't look up to meet her eyes, but he did confide in her, “I like him very much.”

“Hmm. I gathered that when I came into the parlor to get some tea after your councilor left this morning and saw you sitting on his lap.” She giggled.

Harry giggled too and Ron rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Honestly you two...we're talking strategy here, not matrimony!”

They agreed that perhaps they had better organize their reasons for thinking as they did and present it to an unbiased third party. After all they had spent nearly a year thinking that Snape wanted to steal the philosophers stone and kill Harry. They might be wrong this time too.

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking about how to get Harry's ideas for helping people defend themselves out into the wizarding population. The biggest hurdles were getting around Mrs. Weasley and of course, not falling foul of the ministry's underage magic rule.

Supper time that day saw the arrival of their Fred and George, looking for a home cooked meal, a rather tired looking Mr. Weasley and Professor Snape, whom Molly also accused of having the same motive as the twins. They all knew he had come to see Harry, except for the young man himself, who could never imagine anyone going out of their way to visit him. 

Immediately after supper three barn owls swooped in and perched on the edge of the kitchen sink. Mrs. Weasley untied the roll of parchment from each and Harry fed them scraps from his plate. It turned out that these visiting birds brought the three friends their results from their OWL tests.

Both Ron and Hermione read their scores and then lay the parchment on the table for the others to read. When Harry folded his back up and slipped them in his jeans pocket without sharing them they were both a little shocked.

Ron had got seven OWLs. He had an E (Exceeds Expectations) in Defense against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and Herbology.

“Seven OWLs Ron.” Mrs Weasley beamed proudly. “That's almost as many as you two together.” She said in Fred and George's direction. She hugged Ron enthusiastically.

“Mum!” Ron protested wriggling away, both embarrassed and determined to get Harry's scores out of his pocket.

“Very good Mr. Weasley.” Snape said. He too had noticed the quick disappearance of Harry's OWL scores. He was uncertain if he should push the subject, or let it go. 

Harry was reading Hermione’s grades now and smiling at her. “Well done Hermione. I knew you'd ace them all.” He said.

Hermione had gotten eleven Owls. She got an O (Outstanding) in every subject she tested in except for Defense. Hermione was sure that she had studied hard enough, but part of the test had required quick reaction times and correct on your feet decisions that you couldn't possibly study for.

“Let us see your results Harry. They can't be that bad. You studied with Ron and I right through.” She encouraged.

Harry bit his lip. Professor Dumbledore had told him that these marks were for him alone. This meant that they wouldn't be read out in class like some of the test and essay scores were, but he hadn't counted on being at the Weasley's house when they arrived and being pressured by his friends to show them. He hadn't even thought around what he was going to say when they asked how he scored. 

Harry bit his lip. He could lie now and continue lying as he had done throughout the years or he could show them his results and confess. They would know that he had hidden one more thing from them. One more piece of the truth he'd kept hidden. 

He looked at his hands in his lap and they were shaking. There were tears in his eyes but he didn't know they were there. He didn't have a choice really. He'd promised to be straight with Ron from here on out and now he had to prove it. He took his results back out of his pocket and opened them out for all to see.

 

Ancient Runes: O (outstanding)  
Arithmancy: O  
Astronomy: O   
Care of Magical Creatures: O  
Charms: O  
Defence against the Dark Arts: O  
Divination: A (Acceptable)  
History of Magic: O  
Herbology: O  
Potions: O  
Transfiguration: O

He drew his hands back away from it slowly, as though he was not sure he should not snatch the parchment away again. His left hand curled into his lap while his right slid back and forth nervously across the front of the table as though he were polishing the edge.

Each person there was strangely aware that Harry spreading out the paper on the table for them to read was a supreme act of trust. He was so obviously afraid of reprisal for showing the marks, but was trying to trust them not to hurt him.

Harry himself was very nervous about their reactions. He had lied to them all, and hidden things. He hadn't trusted them and the guilt for that lay heavy on his head.

“Very nice Mr. Potter.” Severus said fondly. What had the boy been afraid of? His marks were fantastic. Snape was more than proud, though he was mystified at how someone who was so inept in his classroom could pull off a grade as good as this was.

“George, look at this.” Fred said.

“Yes Fred I see, we have two geniuses under the roof.” George answered, pointing back and forth between Hermione’s test scores and Harry's. 

Ron was somewhat put out. He couldn't believe it. Both of his friends were smarter than he was by far. That or Harry had cheated. He couldn't have cheated could he? No, he wasn't the sort, even if you could. Harry was smart, smarter than smart for he'd passed examinations for two classes he hadn't even taken the courses for. He must have entered himself as home schooled for those two exams.

“Ron?” Harry began tremulously.

Ron was shaking his head in amazement. “Yeah Harry?” He replied.

“They hated it if I stuck out. They didn't like me being different. So they didn't want me to show off, but didn't want me to be stupid either.” Harry gulped. “I was afraid of standing out at Hogwarts as well.” He tried to explain. “Are you mad?” He asked quietly.

“At you, no.” Ron replied. “I'm a little put out.” He admitted. “I feel like the dumb friend.” 

“Oh, Ronald don't” Hermione said grabbing his arm. “That's not true. There are loads of things that Harry and I can't do that you can. “Thinking up strategies and solving problems, that's your talent. They don't test you for that, do they Harry.”

“No” Harry agreed, “They don't.”

“We're just different from one another.” Hermione said to Ron.

“Yeah.” Harry agreed again. “Look at how tall and strong you are. I'd love to be big like you.” Harry caught Ron's eye and glance down at his lap. 

Ron caught Harry's double-entendre and reddened. Molly, who had been carefully watching both boy's during the exchange from behind Harry's chair, caught on to Harry's little joke and had to stifle a laugh. Arthur and Severus both looked questions at her, but neither wanted to interrupt the three friends.

Hermione looked confused but added, “Harry's right Ron, I'd love to have your physical prowess and strength.”   
Ron looked at both his best friends and his funk left him. He had two smart, loyal, loving friends. He didn't really feel bad any more.

“How did you manage it?” Ron asked Harry. Meaning how did he learn everything.

“Well I wrote every essay twice.” Harry said misunderstanding the question. “I would write out the best essay that I could and then I would chop it up and take out any really good bits, plus I always made sure that exactly 3 percent of the words were spelled wrong.” 

He looked thoughtful. “I also made sure that at least one fact was wrong, except in History of Magic, where it's all about facts, there I would get a little more wrong.” He paused again thinking. “On tests I would read through the whole test and mentally answer all of the questions, then write in the wrong answers 30 percent of the time, spaced down the page.”

Ron, Fred and George were laughing silently. Hermione looked absolutely aghast. Molly and Severus were slightly less shocked. Arthur looked terribly sad.

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley said gently. “You don't ever have to hide from us. We'll love you just as you are.”

The young Shefro's eyes went wide as he gazed at this man who had let him in his home and seemingly into his heart. He was amazed at the warmth he saw there, and the sense of belonging that surrounded him. 

Hermione needed to know, “How did you learn Arithmancy and Ancient Runes though?” She asked.

“Library.” Harry said.

“The library?” Hermione asked amazed, “but all you ever checked out was what I told you to and the books on Occlumancy...” She faded off and looked over at Professor Snape. Her mouth snapped shut.

Snape leaned forward on his elbows. “Do tell.” He encouraged.

Hermione licked her lips and looked down at the table, then up at Severus again then at Harry and then back at the table. When her eyes had made the circuit twice her young friend took pity on her and told the story.

“I got all the books about Occlumancy out of the library and made Hermione practice with me. I couldn't seem to learn to block at all, but I learned how to throw up the images I chose so that you wouldn't find out I was a fre-” He bit down on the last word when he saw Snape's face darken with anger. “So you wouldn't find out I was different.” He corrected.

“You learned to throw up false images in three weeks?” Severus asked amazed.

“Two weeks.” Hermione corrected. “It took us a week to plow through the books.” She smiled. She'd seen the ability in Harry before. In fourth year when he'd needed to learn summoning and in third year when he'd been desperate to learn the Patronus charm.

Now that she thought about it, she should have realized that he was smarter than he let on. 

“So, just how much of the library have you read?” Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. “I've read everything as I needed it, um but I didn't keep track. Now I am sort of not sure what I've read and what I haven't.

Here Professor Snape felt he could add to the conversation. “He has read nearly all of the books in the defense, potions, charms, herbology, transfiguration and mind magic areas. He seems to just be skimming history, astronomy and runes. He has ignored divination rather firmly.” He told his students.

“Do you know what books I've missed. In the main six areas I mean.” Harry asked eagerly.

“I do.” Severus toyed with him a moment, looking around the kitchen and pretending he wasn't going to say more. He gave in when Harry pouted. “You've missed about 30 books in all.” He highly doubted the young man even knew he was doing it, but when he did it was irresistible.

“Where did you find the time?” Hermione asked amazed.

Harry shook his head at her, but remembered his vow of no more secrets. “I don't sleep very well, so I sneak to the library and read.” He turned to professor Snape and Molly who were looking upset at this revelation that they boy was wandering the castle at night.

“I never go to the restricted section.” He assured them. They didn't seem to take his assurance as a boon.

“In the future you will check out books and read them in your dorm or common room Mr. Potter.” Snape predicted.

“Yes sir.” Harry said meekly.

They had both been very careful to continue using the honorific titles for one another, if only to remind themselves that they could not become overly romantically entangled. 

“I can't believe you've read that many.” Hermione looked amazed. “Has he read more than me?” She asked Professor Snape. She felt sure the answer was yes.

Severus remembered looking up her record to see, just because he was curious about the dynamic of the “golden trio” as he often called them.

He nodded at her to indicate that yes Harry had read more.

“How much more?” She asked wide eyed.

He raised his eyebrows at her and pursed his lips. He was uncertain if her ego could take the blow. He looked at Harry. He nodded tentatively. 

“Oh, for goodness sake, I'm proud of him, not jealous. How much more?” Hermione asked again.

“About double.” Snape told her.

Hermione actually whistled. “Nice work Potter.” She said admiringly. “I don't suppose insomnia is catching?” She joked.

Harry looked around and saw the young Weasley men's mirth.

“What's so funny?” He asked curiously.

“You mate.” George supplied breaking into giggles.

“The first student...” Fred began.

“In the history of Hogwarts...” George continued.

“To every get away with cheating...” Fred took over again.

“And you did it to hide how smart you are!” They finished together.

Severus was looking at the twins bemused. “Oh my, you really do share a brain.” He said to them lightly.

They shrugged in unison. 

“Two heads...” Fred began.

“Are better than one.” George finished.

“Not if they're both full of sawdust.” Molly laughed.

“Really mother....”Fred began.

“We've never been so insulted.” George continued.

They stood together in mock indignity.

“If we aren't appreciated...” Fred said to his mother while liking arms with his twin.

“We'll take ourselves...” George went on as they both raised their noses in the air.

“Away.” They said together as they headed toward the fireplace and floo network.

Arthur grabbed them as they went past. “Not before you do up the dishes lads.”

Fred grimaced and George shrugged.

“But da' we don't even live here anymore!” Fred protested

“Dishes” Arthur said.

“Well, we almost got away.” George said encouragingly to his twin. Fred nodded at him and they headed to the sink.


	29. Harry Takes a Walk.

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

 

**Chapter 29: In Which Harry Takes a Walk.**

The next morning saw Harry out of bed long before dawn. He'd awakened with tell tale back pain. He knew that the moment he had dreaded was near to hand. He rolled out of his bed, which had formerly been Fred's or George's and padded to the bathroom to have a look at his back. After six years of experience he could probably tell how long it would be before his new family saw exactly the kind of freak they'd been playing host to.

Harry stripped off his tee shirt and craned his neck to see his own back in the mirror. He looked at the raised dark welts running parallel to his spine. If he looked long enough he could see the subtle movement underneath the skin where the bone, sinew and ligament were realigning themselves to create his wings. Watching it was mildly fascinating. To him it looked like he had about an hour to wait. 

Harry pushed his pajama bottoms down so he could see where his wings would end, just inside his hip bones. He was still skinny enough that his spine was clearly defined. It looked strange staying stationary between the two pulsing raised areas situated on either side of it. Thinking back to figure out how long it would be he remembered how he'd seen the plastic and whatnot in his Aunt's kitchen covered in a spray of blood when the wings emerged. He began to worry.

Was there a way to keep the mess from the Weasley's? Perhaps if his wings came early enough he could clean up himself, and then they'd never know. 

He recalled that sprouting new wings taxed him greatly and left him feeling incredibly weak for a long period. There was no way that he could clean up afterwards. He also recalled that it caused him a good deal of pain. Could he stay quiet enough to avoid waking anyone? No.

He looked out the window and a plan formed. The field over the garden wall was completely empty and Harry's invisibility cloak would shield him from prying eyes. Really it seemed like the best solution. He wished there was a way to hide the whole thing from them. They had really been treating him like part of their family. How would it feel to go back to being a pet?

Harry shook his head. Being a pet at the Weasley's had to be better than being a pet at the Dursley's. He snorted. The owls and cats and rats here were treated with the utmost respect and ate good, fresh food aplenty. 

He couldn't hide it from them. They already knew it was going to happen. They were expecting him to grow wings. Besides he had promised not to hide things from them. They just didn't realize that with the wings he was disgusting enough to make his grown aunt throw up on her own linoleum. 

Logically then it wasn't the existence of the wings he had to hide, but the appearance of them. Maggie though, had said that his wings were beautiful. Had she been lying? Harry closed his eyes and remembered her speaking. He mentally sniffed at the memory. No. She hadn't lied. Maggie had told the others that he was a lovely creature. 

Ron had expressed a desire to see his wings. Again Harry closed his eyes and tested the truth of the memory. Okay. Ron was really looking forward to this. Perhaps once he had seen the wings and given his opinion then Harry could come up with a battle plan. The first time his wings had appeared he'd managed to keep them hidden for almost a week. If Ron was up to helping him, Harry bet he could keep them out of sight for the rest of the summer.

Harry packed his trunk and prepared it to be carried to the mud room off the kitchen. He was fairly certain animals did not have bedrooms, even here. He put it outside of Fred and George's door and knelt beside it with pencil and parchment. He wrote Ron a note.

The young Shefro put his note on the inside of Ron's door with a piece of tape he swiped from the bottom of a Chudley Cannons poster that had had rather a lot of it. He carried his trunk down the stairs and then wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak and headed off. He found that he had timed his departure rather well. Once he climbed the garden wall and stumbled about thirty feet into the field the pain of the wings forming and stretching the skin of his back forced him to his knees.

The rain was cold as the sun was not yet up and Harry hadn't changed out of his baggy old pajama pants. He knelt on the ground and shivered. The cloak kept him invisible, but it didn't serve to keep the water out. He balled up the cloak to be sure that it wouldn't get hit in the spray of blood and put it on the ground in front of his knees. The rain flattened his hair to his head and ran in rivulets down his face and behind his glasses. After only a few minutes his light pants were soaked through.

Lightening struck a little ways away and pain raced up Harry's back stronger than before. He whimpered, but when the thunder broke over him he allowed himself a loud moan. Teeth gritted, he breathed through the pain. The next spasm drove him down to his haunches with his hands supporting his upper body. His hands dug like claws through the grass and into the earth beneath him as he arched his back and drew his feet tight beneath him. His trainer bit into his bottom and he remembered his shoes. 

Between spasms of pain he managed to get first one holey trainer and then the other off and tucked them close to his knees with his father's cloak. He could feel the skin stretching on his back, the ache was unbearable. Harry bit his lip. He knew the worst was coming. He could feel the pressure building under his skin. He wiped his face and was surprised to find that his hands were covered in grass and mud. He tucked his muddied glasses into one of his shoes. The next painful spasm sent him into a convulsive ball curled around the cloak and shoes. He felt his entire back contract and then the rending of flesh as his wings broke forth.

For endless minutes Harry's whole world was pain. His vision was white with it. His body went slack and his face slid into the grass. For the space of twenty heartbeats he was completely still, but then the need for oxygen took over and Harry's head turned to the side. Breathing deeply he opened his eyes. He could see the watery blood dripping from his right wing tip. He watched the wing shake itself out before his eyes rolled up into his head and he knew no more.

Arthur Weasley woke with a start. He sat bolt upright in bed. 

“What is it Arthur?” Molly questioned slightly groggy.

“Something is off with the wards.” He answered concentrating.

His wife focused also. She pursed her lips. “Someone's come or gone.” She stated.

Arthur nodded in agreement. He checked each of the monitoring spells he had on his offspring. “Well none of the kids have left so someone must have arrived.” He concluded.

Molly looked at the window. Despite the teeming rain she could see that dawn was about to break. “Who would come so early?” She queried as she slipped her feet into her threadbare slippers and threw on her robe. “You stay in bed dear. I'll find out who it is.”

She made her way downstairs thoroughly expecting to see Fred and George looking for breakfast or perhaps Bill, though he didn't often come by in the morning. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the kitchen she was in full bustle mode. 

Mrs. Weasley waved her wand at the kettle aiming it for the pump tap in the corner where it promptly filled itself up. She ignited the burner on the stove and then looked around. No hungry sons in the kitchen. The fireplace was cold so no one had used the floo to come in. She went to the mud room to see whose shoes or boots would be there marking their arrival.

That was when she saw it. Harry's trunk. It should be in Fred and George's old room, now his new room. He had painstakingly made no changes to the decor and had even avoided putting anything in the drawers. He used his trunk every day. 

She was momentarily glad that he had finally accepted that he was welcome and unpacked. Then, suddenly suspicious she pulled on the handle of the trunk. It was still full. The wards. Someone had come or gone. Arthur had said that none of the kids had left, but had he placed a monitoring spell on their latest child? Was Harry out there in the rain?

She marched back up the stairs and knocked on Harry's door. No answer. She opened the door a tiny bit and peeked through the crack. One look was enough for her. The bottom bunk where Harry had slept was made. The upper bunk was stripped as the boys had left it. Harry was most certainly not in there. 

“Arthur! Arthur.” She called as she made her way up the next flight of stairs to where she had left her husband sleeping. 

Ronald at the top of the highest flight of stairs heard the commotion and was about to bury his head back under his pillow. Then he heard his father calling at the bathroom door. “Harry, are you in there?” 

The youngest Weasley male rubbed his face and hitched up his sleep pants to go and see what was the matter. He stopped just short of the bedroom door. Harry had left him a note.

_Dear Ron_

_I have gone to the field where we played quidditch last week. When you wake up my wings should be here. I make a good deal of noise and mess when they arrive. I thought it best to make myself scarce._

_Hopefully the rain will have washed away some of the mess also. I will be lying on my invisibility cloak. If it's not too much trouble please wrap me up in it and stow me in the garage, out of the way, until I wake up._

_Thanks ever so much._

_Yours in gratitude_

_Harry._

_P.S. Don't come out to get me until it stops raining. There's no point us both catching cold!_

Ron groaned and pulled the note off the door. He was momentarily torn. As Harry's friend at school he would have done as he'd asked and merely secret him somewhere until he woke up. As Harry's older brother his duty was clear. 

“Dad.” He called as he pulled open his door. 

He found his father at the foot of the attic stairs just beginning to climb. 

“Son, is Harry up there with you? Your mother and I felt a change in the wards and well...now we can't find him.” Mr. Weasley explained.

“He wouldn't go out in this, would he?” Molly gestured to the window where the rain was pouring down. She was beginning to get worried. They'd wasted a half an hour or more searching the house. She could see the sun coming up now and the wards would only go off if Harry had gotten a certain distance from the house.

Ron grimaced and handed the note to his father. 

“He's out there all right.” Ron said turning around and marching back into his room. He closed the door. 

Molly and Arthur read the note. Molly was tearful. Arthur looked confused. He looked up at his youngest son's door. Certainly he hadn't gone back to sleep to wait for the rain to stop?

“Imagine the poor boy going out into the rain because he was worried about putting us out!” Molly sniffed.

The door to Ron's room burst open and a figure wrestling a slightly too small, violently orange rain poncho over his head emerged at a rapid pace. The Weasley parents pressed themselves against the walls to allow their long legged, but as yet no headed, son to pass between them.

Arthur caught hold of the poncho and tugged it down so that the ginger head of his youngest son popped through the top. 

“Sort out our boots and my rain coat in the mud room and wait for me there.” Arthur said to his son as he pushed the letter into Molly's hand and passed into his bedroom to throw on his clothes.

Molly followed Ron down to the kitchen and cast water repelling charms on him. She knew that in this downpour he would need all the help he could get. She was joined moments later by Hermione and her husband.

“Did you say Harry is out there?” Hermione asked grabbing at Mr. Weasley. 

“Not to worry. We'll find him and bring him back.” He said taking the note from his wife's hands and giving it to Hermione. 

“He'll be chilled.” He said to Molly. “How about some of that porridge he liked and some hot cocoa. That ought to tempt him.” He smiled reassuringly. 

“Wait.” Hermione said getting hold of Mr. Weasley again. “Crookshanks!” She called. The cat came right up to her immediately, as though it could tell by her voice that something important was afoot.

Ron looked down at the orange cat remembering how it could always find Scabbers wherever he went. He grinned. “Brilliant Hermione! I thought we were going to have to search that field inch by inch.” 

Hermione got down on her knees and told the cat. “Harry's out there. You go and find him. Take Ronald to Harry.” The cat purred against her leg and then after rubbing against Harry's trunk in the mud room he stated for the door. When the door opened onto the rain the cat shrunk back slightly and looked at Hermione over his shoulder.

“Crookshanks, go find Harry!” Hermione demanded shrilly.

Reluctantly Crookshanks stepped out into the rain.


	30. Hermione Makes a Fire Call

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 30: In Which Hermione Makes a Fire Call.**   


Ron followed along behind the cat dutifully holding out the front of his poncho to keep the rain off the large feline. Crookshanks followed a straight path to the garden wall and then stopped. He sniffed left and then right and then leapt up onto the wall.

He voiced his discontent with a loud yowl when he jumped down into the long wet grass on the other side. Ron, followed closely by a bemused Mr. Weasley, clambered over after the cat.

They had gone no more than twenty paces in the pouring rain when they came upon a pair of muddy bare feet. They were poking out from under what appeared to be a large, wet raven's wing. Logic told Ron that this must be Harry. Unmindful of his own trousers he knelt down next to the wing and gently lifted it to peer underneath.

Harry was curled up in a tight ball with his bare arms wrapped around his legs pulling them tight to his chest. He was shivering and appeared to be rather pale and muddy, but otherwise Ron had seen him in much worse shape. Mr. Weasley heard his son puff out the breath he had been holding.

“Dad, can you Leviosa him into the house or should I carry him?” The younger man asked wondering how to even pick his now winged friend up.

Mr. Weasley cast the charm and the boy-who-lived was levitated into the house where he was met by a tutting Mrs. Weasley and a rather nervous Hermione. Crookshanks had come running back several minutes earlier and since then the two of them had been straining their eyes trying to see through the rain.

When they saw the three figures making their way across the sodden yard it was all they could do to keep indoors and patiently await the arrival of the search party and the foundling.

Once Harry was in the door Arthur let him down onto an old blanket Molly had kept waiting, for that purpose. Ron accepted a towel from Hermione and then asked her to step into the kitchen. She attempted to balk at his request but then he pointed out, “Okay, but Dad and I are going to strip down so we can dry off.” 

Hermione beat a hasty retreat. Molly put her head into the kitchen and asked Hermione to fire call Poppy Pomfrey, “Hermione dear, just ask her if she can pop round and have a look at Harry. Tell her about the wings and the rain and that he's still hasn't wakened.” Mrs Weasley didn't want to give up her post next to the young man until she saw him alert and talking.

“Right away.” Hermione replied wishing she'd thought to fire call the healer while the search was still on. 

She knelt down in front of the fireplace with the pot of floo powder and threw in a handful. “Hogwarts Infirmary” She said clearly and stuck her head in the fire. 

For a moment all she saw was green flames, an indication that the floo was private, then the castle recognized her as a student and she could make out the Madam Pomfrey's office and, through an open door, the now empty ward. 

“Madam Pomfrey.” She called out loudly. She attempted to push her way through but discovered that while she could see and talk to the room in the castle, she could not enter it. “Madam Pomfrey.” She called out a little more desperately. 

If only they'd let her see Harry. He had been so still and Arthur had looked so grim. “Madam Pomfrey.” This time her voice had a little hitch in it as she sobbed out the name as loud as she could. 

A door across the way from the fireplace, that she hadn't noticed before cracked open a tiny bit and a voice said, “Madam Pomfrey is on holiday, she will return in the fall.” 

Though the owner of the voice did not enter the room, Hermione knew exactly to whom she spoke.

“Oh, Professor Snape, it's Hermione...” She had begun to gush in relief at finding someone who could help her, but cut herself short as she recalled that as a spy he was often in company with death eaters. “Are you alone there?” She quickly asked.

The door opened the rest of the way and the black cloaked professor revealed himself and looked down at her. He knelt before the fire and nodded, “I needed some time away from my house guest.” He ground out, sneering. Clearly Peter Pettigrew was getting on his nerves.

Once he had cracked the door he could tell that something was troubling her. He was anxious to find out what it was.

“What do you need Miss Granger?” He asked briskly.

“Mrs. Weasley would like me to get Madam Pomfrey.” She paused momentarily. There was no time for relating the whole tale. She simply said, “It's Harry.”

Snape reached up and grabbed the pot of floo powder that was on the mantle in the Matron's office. “You need her at the Burrow?” He asked.

When Hermione nodded professor Snape hurriedly ordered, “Back out of the fire. That will break our connection and I will call her and send her to you.” He waved her backwards as he spoke and readied a handful of floo powder for himself.

Hermione backed out of the fire and watched the flames return to orange. 

She looked around herself to find that the mud room door was still closed. Just then Ginny crossed the kitchen with and arm load of clothing and opened the door, handing the things to her mother she stepped up to the stove and peeked under the pot lid.

Hermione stood up.

“Is Harry awake?” She asked.

“I don't think so. I didn't heard him talking, but mum didn't let me stay to ask questions.” Ginny bit her lip and looked around for something to do. The younger girl never could stay still when something upsetting was going on.

“Peaches.” She said to Hermione.

“Pardon?” Hermione looked confused.

“I'm going to cut up some preserved peaches for the porridge.” Ginny decided.

**************

Inside the mud room Harry awoke wrapped in a blanket, lying on the mud room floor. He could see Ron putting on clothes in front of him. Not that he could see Ron clearly, but he was familiar with Ron's manner and shape and could tell it was him. The figure also smelled like Ron to the little shefro. Someone else was behind Ron as well, but without his glasses Harry couldn't make out who it was. He felt around for his trainer and inadvertently ran into Mrs. Weasley's slipper.

“Oh, Harry dear. Are you awake?” She asked bending down.

Harry pulled the blanket a little tighter thinking to hide the wings from her. He did not realize she had already seen them when he was levitated in and had no wish to disgust her with his appearance. 

“Er...mostly” He said still groping around for his glasses. His voice was rough and whispery as though he were rather far away. His muddy little fingers continued to walk around his general vicinity.

Five years of being dorm mates with Harry had accustomed Ron to his idiosyncrasies. He was fairly certain that the spidery hand was searching for something.

“What're you looking for Harry?” He asked kneeling down to catch Harry's eye.

Harry looked at him dazed. He looked at the floor and back up at Ron again. “Glasses.” He said. 

Ron's eyes closed. He hadn't seen Harry's glasses. 

“I didn't see them mate. Just the cloak, your shoes and you.” He slumped his shoulders. He knew that his newest sibling was rather myopic and therefore could not make out much without them. He'd have to go back and search for them.

“Let's get you inside shall we?” Molly began to try and bustle the boys into the kitchen.

“Shoes?” Harry said, beginning to quest with his fingers again. 

“You don't need your shoes. Let's get you inside and cleaned up.” She tried to insist.

“Yeah, Harry. You go in with mum. I'll go find your glasses.” Ron tried.

Harry began to shake his head but quickly stopped. After the blood loss he found the movement made him dizzy. “My shoes?” He asked again.

Molly and Ron at once began to try and tell Harry he didn't need his shoes.

Mr. Weasley noted that Harry's bottom lip had popped out to protrude in a slight pout. He began to try and make wider sweeps with his hands to find the shoes he sought.

Once he had come precariously close to toppling over several times Arthur said, “Just give the boy his shoes.”

Ron produced the worn wet trainers from beneath the cloak and set them in front of his friend. 

Harry slid his hand into one of the trainers and pulled out his glasses. The right lens had a mucky thumb print complete with several small blades of grass. He attempted to brush it off with his fingertips only to smear it around a bit. The effort of running his thumb in circles over the lens seemed extremely taxing to him.

“Here mate.” Said Ron holding his hands out for the dirty spectacles. He wiped them on the blanket that Harry was wrapped in. It was already rather wet and muddy from his pants and feet. 

Harry slid them on his face and looked up.

“Good Morning Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley.” He said softly when he could make them out. He looked down at himself. “Oh, look at the mess! I'm so sorry.” He could see that he's been placed on the blanket, muck and blood and all. The sound of the rain pinging on the mud room roof broke upon his senses. 

“Now don't you mind about the mess Harry.” Molly said.

“Ron, I said after the rain and in the garage.” He whispered sadly. He slumped his shoulders and lowered his head. Worse than a wet dog in the house. His breath began to hitch. “How horrid.” He mumbled.

Ron looked from Harry to his dad shaking his head. Molly teared up, but Arthur nodded to his son. He'd actually expected more of this kind of behavior from Harry. 

“Ron go into the kitchen and get some milk into the medium pot on low heat for your mother. She'll come along in a minute and melt up some chocolate for cocoa.” Mr. Weasley instructed. Then he knelt down on one knee in front of his dark haired charge and looked at Harry. 

The young Gryffindor was shivering slightly and his eyes had drifted closed. He was drifting forward and then straightening slightly with each breath he took. He was slowly curling back into his fetal position.

“Harry.” Mr Weasley called very softly. 

Harry opened his eyes and focused on Arthur. 

“I am going to take your wet pants off and wrap you in a dry blanket, then I am going to pick you up and carry you up to the bath were we can get you warm and clean.”

“Don't...trouble.” Harry said.

“It's no trouble Harry. I've carried every other one of my sons up those stairs shivering and muddy at some point.” He smiled gently for reassurance. “Let's get those pants off.”

Harry started to wiggle out of the muddy sleep pants while still in the blanket. Very slowly Arthur slid his hands up along Harry's legs to help the trousers come down more easily. All the time he helped Harry he talked, low and calm.

“Of course once Fred and George came along the shivering and mud were normally a result of some prank or other, but Bill and Charlie's misadventures usually revolved around an excess of spirits when the two were younger, or drink when they were older. I can remember carrying Charlie up the stairs after his graduation party. Herne only knows what the punch was spiked with, but sobering charms only bounced off.” Here he shook his head.

The little shefro was now wrapped in Molly's old picnic blanket and Arthur lifted him, mindful to turn so Harry would not see the mess they were leaving behind. Molly nodded silently that she would make quick work of the mess once they were on their way upstairs. Molly's overly tender character was in this instance offset perfectly by Arthur's quiet control. 

“Now Charlie, he weighed twice what you do when he was 17 I think, but we got him warmed and sobered before we knew it.”

Harry's eyes had drifted closed again as Arthur entered the kitchen with him. He stopped a moment inside the doors. He pursed his lips and both his children knew they were to stay quiet. Ron laid his finger on his lips to warn Hermione to contain her outburst.

Arthur inclined his head to Ron bidding him nearer. “Run up and strip down for a shower. I think Harry would rather have your help than mine lad.” 

Ron nodded and pelted off. 

Mr. Weasley nodded to Hermione and Ginny waved her hand at her friend indicating that she should move forward. “Stir that milk so it doesn't stick on the bottom of the pot. Grate in chocolate from the block above the sink.” He nodded in the direction. “Grate for 20 seconds, stir for twenty and so on until about one quarter of the block is gone. Then just the stirring bit.”

Hermione nodded her understanding and took her place at the stove. She had vaguely wondered how large families managed not to run in circles and fall over each other when a crisis arrived. She had seen Mr. Weasley take control before, at the World Cup last summer and knew that this family could cope with crisis because they worked as a team.

Ginny stepped forward unbidden. “Help you mother and Hermione, and show Madam Pomfrey up when she arrives. Oh and don't let that oatmeal burn; the peaches you put in it smell wonderful. I am quite looking forward to it.” 

This took only a moment, but it made all the difference. Harry was not really up to participating in the conversation, but he could hear how they were all behaving. He understood that they were working together to help him.

Mr. Weasley smiled at the girls reassuringly and then proceeded to the bath with his cargo.


	31. Many People Visit the Weasley's Master Bathroom.

  
**Chapter 31: In Which Many People Visit the Weasley's Master Bathroom.**   


Once Arthur arrived with carrying his smallest and newest child, he found that Ron had the water running to a warm temperature. He also had the shampoo, towels and a soaped up washcloth at the ready. He stepped into the tub under the spray and reached out for Harry as his father unwrapped him.

Harry had roused a further at the sound of the water and Ron said to him, “Try to grab my hands mate, I'll hold you up and we'll get you rinsed off.” 

Between the two of them they got him rinsed and soaped and rinsed again. He was rather like a marionette, turning this way and that at their quiet commands. They watched the mud and blood run down the drain. Harry watched, quietly amused, that the water, though there was no curtain around the claw footed tub, did not soak the floor as he had first feared. There was a charm around the tub to act as a shower curtain. 

Mr. Weasley was perfectly capable of reaching into the shower and applying shampoo to the messy black hair without getting wet above his elbows. 

In his dizzy state Harry watched as water ran down the magical barrier. It was calming to see this sign that he was in the magical world. He was where he belonged.

Ron toed the plug into the drain and the tub began to fill. Harry tipped his head to the side.

“You should have a bit of a soak mate, get warm.” The redhead holding him up smiled.

Together they lowered Harry to the bottom of the tub. Not because he was heavy, but because he was still a little off balance and neither of the redheaded men wanted to injure him. When he was settled Ron stepped out from behind him and began to towel dry.

Arthur knelt down beside the tub to feel the water. He turned it a bit hotter and then handed Harry a wash cloth and waved at the lad's groin. “You might want to cover up. I think I hear Madam Pomfrey on the stairs.”

Moments later Ron had a bathrobe tied around himself and there was a rap on the door. He opened the door and said on his way out. “I'll just get dressed and come back, right?”

Madam Pomfrey looked at him a bit strangely until she realized he was talking to Harry, but asking her permission. “Go on, but knock when you return.” She dismissed him with a nod and a small smile.

Arthur held up three bottles. “Lavender for calm and clementine clove for warming. Should I add vanilla too?” He asked her.

“Thank you Arthur, but not the vanilla. He'll go to sleep. I think something from the citrus family perhaps, to stimulate the circulation.” She answered.

He measured out the lavender and clove and then searched and found grapefruit oil which he added as well. He gave the bath a stir with his hand and sat himself on the stool out of the medi-witch's way, but in Harry's clear view.

Harry was seated in the tub with one leg forward, but slightly bent and one tucked in with his foot against the opposite thigh. The bottom half of his wings were in the water and they curved forward at his sides but ran back along the bottom of the tub. The very tips crossed about a foot behind his bottom. 

His wings were the color of his hair and they were slick and unruly because of the shower. The feathers under the water were floating slightly making them look a little fuzzy. Arthur was certain that once Harry was dry he would be quite beautiful with his wings. They looked to Mr. Weasley like they would dry to a glossy black. He imagined that they would look graceful once they weren't crammed into a tub of water. Harry himself had begun to look more healthy in general, but today he was dreadfully pale and rather bedraggled.

Madam Pomfrey tested the temperature of the water with her wand and found it met her desires. She cast a heating charm in the room also to help her patient warm up. She took his temperature and found it to be low. It was even lower now than it had been when he had come to the Weasley's suffering from hunger. His blood pressure was also low and his plasma count was abysmal. His blood sugar was not high enough for him to stay awake without constant stimulation and it was a wonder he wasn't extremely irritable. She stepped back behind the wings and ran some tests there too.

She placed a cushioning charm on Harry to keep his head from dipping under the water as he drifted off, curling further forward toward his knees, and then went to the door and opened it a crack.

Ginny was standing out in the hall with a pencil and paper waiting to take down the list of potions that were needed for her adopted brother.

“Miss Weasley, I will need, two or three blood replenishing, one nutrient potion, one half skelegro and one half pain reduction. Also ask him to bring a fever reducer and a muscle relaxant for later. Tell him not to bother writing it in the storeroom log book, I'll do it when I get back. I'm sure he is anxious enough to get here. Send him up with your mother when he arrives please.” Madam Pomfrey told the girl.

Ginny ran down the stairs and slid up to the fire where Hermione was already speaking to Professor Snape. He was at the Hogwarts infirmary waiting to find out what potions to bring to the burrow with him. She bumped her friend with her hip and threw in a pinch of floo powder so she could join the call. 

Hermione felt a moment of dizziness and then she found that Ginny's head was right beside hers in the fire. The younger girl broke into their conversation to give the list of medicines before she forgot it. Professor Snape and Hermione completely ignored her rudeness. The potions master repeated the list back to her rapid fire and she pulled out of the fire quickly to double check. When she rejoined them and confirmed that he'd gotten it right she had a chance to observe his demeanor. Snape was white and his lips were pressed so tight together he nearly appeared to have none. His hair was in disarray, as though he had been in a wind, or had been pacing furiously. Ginny allowed herself the satisfaction of knowing that her newest brother was so dearly loved by the man before her, that his stern facade had all but fallen away in his distress.

The girls backed out of the fire quickly. Snape's parting remark to them had been to make sure they were well away from the fire, as he was coming through post haste. He was so out of sorts he didn't even make a snide comment about tripping on them. Hermione almost missed it.

Ginny turned to her mother. “Madam Pomfrey wants you to go upstairs with Professor Snape when he arrived with the potions.” She tried to plant an extendable ear on her mother as she gave the message. She dearly wanted to know the diagnosis at the same time as the adults. 

Molly caught her daughter trying to tag her apron, but didn't go to hard on the girl. She understood that the young people were as worried about Harry as she was. “He'll be alright girls. You'll see. If he'd been in bad shape they'd have been down the stairs with him by now and off to Saint Mongo's” She reassured.

She also told them. “The breakfast and cocoa are all ready, but don't let your brother get into them. He'll break the warming charm and they will be cold when the rest of us want to eat. If he, or you, can't wait there are buns in the cupboard, alright girls?” She looked ready to go and get them each a bun, but they both shook their heads.

“I'm too worried to eat mum.” Ginny stated.

“Oh, all right dear. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape will set him right. Just you wait...Ah, here he is now.” Mrs. Weasley nodded toward the fire.

The fire flared green and Professor Snape stepped through. Molly always marveled at his grace. Not only had he come through the fire rapidly but he was soot free and stylishly dressed in black summer weight slacks and a white peasant shirt. He stopped and executed a brief bow. 

“Good Morning Ladies.” He said briskly. 

“Good Morning Sir.” Said both of the girls. Hermione bowed slightly back as she'd seen Ron do, but Ginny showed her wizard roots by executing a slight curtsy at the end of which she stepped back to indicate that she would stand out of the conversation and let him pass quickly. She drew Hermione back with her. The older girl looked slightly surprised, but followed her friend's lead.

“This way Severus” Molly said leading the anxious man to deliver the potions. She knew that attempting to take them from him would prove futile. She bustled up to the bath and he followed in her wake.

She knocked upon the closed door. It was opened a moment later by her youngest...no, now her second youngest son. She and the potions master stepped into the luckily spacious bathroom and after a brief nod between mother and son, Ron was off to the kitchen to wait. He closed the door softly behind him and went down the stairs after hearing his mother's privacy charm.

Both of the new arrivals looked at the young shefro. He'd stopped shivering, but still looked out of it and dizzy. Severus thought he'd never seen Harry look so small and pale. The wings didn't really register on him. He just saw that his Harry appeared to be very vulnerable at this moment. His heart ached with the desire to scoop the boy out of the tub and clasp him to his chest protectively. He swallowed and then looked at the floor and blinked. Never had another effected him this way. 

After one or two heartbeats Poppy held out her hand to her colleague. She was amazed the depth of feeling the man was showing and had given him a moment to master his emotions. 

“Good Morning Severus.” She greeted.

“Good Morning Poppy.” He stepped around Molly and noticed her husband. “Good Morning Arthur.” He added before shaking hands with the medi-witch.

“Thank you for coming Severus.” Mr. Weasley said.

Severus attempted a wry smile and some sarcasm saying, “Oh yes it was so much trouble.”

He stepped up to the fragile figure in the tub, but waited while Madam Pomfrey roused Harry enough to take the potions. He tried to straighten up for her, but his head appeared to be rather heavy.

She manually tipped the young man's head to the correct angle and reached her free hand toward her colleague. “Blood replenishing please” She said.

Severus echoed her and informed her it was a double portion, then he placed an uncorked vial in her hand. She fed the potion to Harry then dropped the vial in her apron pocket for recording.

“Nutrient potion please” She asked next.

“Grain or vitamin?” Severus asked.

“Oh, grain would be best.” She nodded to herself. She wanted to raise his blood sugar fast. “I'll follow up with the vitamin to stabilize if we can't get some real food into him in half an hour.”

She took the vial from him and got it into the-boy-who-bathed. 

“Skelegro, one half portion.” Severus said as he handed her the next bottle.

She paused and taking the other potion from him also she turned back to the tub. She warned her patient that the next potion was skelegro. 

He looked up at her weakly. “Perhaps I'd better get out.” He said slowly. He began to try to move himself. “I squirmed like anything the last time.” He admitted ashamedly.

“Well that was a rather large portion dear; meant to regrow bones. This won't hurt near as much, and even better, you can take a pain reduction potion with it.” 

Here she mixed the doses of pain potion and skelegro together and fed them to him.

“Lie quiet now.” She instructed as she reset the supporting charm on his head.

She ran the tests again and found that most of his reading were improving rapidly. He needed another blood replenishing potion, and once she had dosed him with it she turned to the Weasley's and by default Severus as well.

“Arthur, your quick action payed off. He has no sign of hypothermia. It is always a worry when there is a good deal of blood loss combined with the body being allowed to grow cold. His temperature has returned to the normal range and his blood pressure and whatnot are all reading well also. 

“Excitement should be kept to an absolute minimum today. His little heart laboring. Its rhythm is too quick and shallow. His body has had a shock. He should feel well tomorrow or the next day. If he develops a fever give him this. Fever or no give him this muscle relaxant before sleep tonight. Put a monitoring charm on him tonight when he sleeps if you like, but by then the potions should have done their job.

“In a few minutes you can help him from the bath Arthur. Be sure he it thoroughly dry. Use a towel and a charm. He should have some warm food, preferably a grain, and some chocolate, preferably warm, and be put to bed for the day. He may or may not sleep, but he must be made to rest. He is not to walk any distance and he shouldn't be left alone for any period longer than five or ten minutes until evening”

She handed over the potions, clearly labeled. Then she drew from her apron pocket a magically created list of the points she had just made and the medicines that had been administered. The apron had been a gift from her mother on the day of her graduation. She was very proud of it's efficient performance. Molly was very happy to have the instruction spelled out in black and white.

After that the two ladies and the potion master made their way to the kitchen. Poppy accepted tea, but declined breakfast. Severus accepted both, but like the three young people that had awaited them, he preferred not to eat the breakfast until Harry could join them.

She drew from her apron pocket a magically created list of the points she had just made. The apron had been a gift from her mother on the day of her graduation. She was very proud of it's efficient performance. 

Two cups of tea later saw Harry shuffling into the room, prodded forward by Mr. Weasley. On the bottom he was wearing baggy jeans and mismatched slippers. On the top he was wearing his housecoat. It was backwards to allow room for his wings to come out of the back. He was warm and dry, but feeling rather shy. 

The room went quiet when he entered. Harry kept his eyes on his feet all the way across the kitchen. Mr. Weasley grabbed a stool from the corner and seated the young shefro on it, pushing him up to the table. 

Once he was seated Arthur said to him, “What do you say Harry?” 

Harry's eyes were now glued to the top of the table the rest of the eyes in the room were glued on him.

“Sorry I worried you all.” He said.

The kitchen burst forward with a jumble of replies.

“Arthur you haven't been scolding him?” Molly asked. 

While Ginny told Harry not to worry about it, Hermione and Ron chewed him out for not coming to them and forming some kind of plan.

Severus stood and rounded the table. He made hushing sounds to the rest of the room, worried that their display would cause too much excitement. Sliding the stool back from the table he knelt in front of Harry and took hold of his small hands. Harry eyes had now moved to focus on his lap. A potion stained finger poked his chin until he looked up at the dark eyes that regarded him.

“You foolish, foolish boy.” Snape whispered. In no way could his tone be construed as angry.

Harry tried to drop his eyes again but found that the action of trying to drop his head caused the finger to dig into his chin more emphatically.

“For weeks now we have all been trying to tell you, to show you, that we...” Here Severus stumbled for a moment. He took a deep breath. “That we love you.”

Green eyes widened. Snape nodded and moved the hand from beneath the fine pointed chin to run it through Harry's permanently tousled hair.

He smiled briefly, then said in mock seriousness, “Do try to keep it in mind, won't you?” 

Harry quirked a half smile and nodded sheepishly.

The potions master put both his hands under Harry's arms and encouraged him to stand by doing so himself. “Since your adoring public have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of your wings, I don't suppose you would do us the favor of honoring us with a viewing?” He asked, once they were both on their feet. 

Harry pinked and frowned slightly. 

Severus let go of him and made a twirling motion with his finger that looked rather like he was stirring an invisible potion. Harry tipped his head to the side quizzically.

Snape sighed. “Spin.” He said.

Harry spun quickly in a circle and then shook his head a bit. “Still a bit dizzy.” he murmured.

“Silly boy.” Snape whispered as he came forward and took Harry's shoulders again.

“Spin slowly.” Molly instructed helpfully.

“As though you were trying on clothes.” Hermione added.

Harry tipped his head to the side again. This had long been his way of asking Hermione to elaborate. Others had now caught on to this little intimation of his.

“You know, when you are in a shop getting new clothes and you try them on and you spin about, so that whoever is with you can see how it looks.” She filled him in.

“At Madam Malkin's she wants us to stand still, not spin.” Harry reminded her.

“No, I mean when you are buying trousers or jumpers off the rack.” Hermione went on.

Harry continued to look baffled.

“I never...” He trailed off.

Ron poked Hermione’s shoulder. “It's all been hand me downs.” He reminded.

“Oh, yeah. How could I forget with him wearing those slippers?” Hermione giggled.

Harry put his fists on his hips. “Leave my slippers out of it.” He grumbled. 

“We would if they were your slippers mate.” Ron laughed.

Harry looked down at his mismatched feet. “Yeah, I suppose. Who do you figure has worse taste?” He held out his left foot, clad in a tartan flip flop style slipper with a fake buckle on the toe. “Aunt Petunia or.” He switched feet and displayed a vinyl moccasin with blue plastic beads. “Or Dudley!” He wiggled the ugly moccasin.

“Petunia” Said Hermione and Ginny at once while Ron said, “Dudley”. The three then had a hardy laugh.

Hermione stood up and went to stand beside their professor. “Do you like my new jumper?” She asked him with mock girlishness.

“Let's see it.” He replied doing the finger twirl again.

She put her arms slightly akimbo to show off the patten of the sweater and then she spun slowly, allowing all to see the sweater, from every angle, clearly. Once she had come back to the front she said to Harry, “Like that.” Then she took her place at the table once more.

Harry imitated her action somewhat stiffly giving them a view of his wings from all angles. 

When he came back around to the front he was hesitant to meet their eyes. Hermione and Ginny began to applaud quietly. Harry looked up to see that they didn't seem upset at all. He looked over at Ron to find that his best mate had an admiring smile on his face. The adult Weasleys and Madam Pomfrey had funny looks on their faces. As though they had just seen a deer or something. 

He couldn't bring himself to look at the last figure in the room. He felt more than saw the tall dark figure approach him. “They are exquisite Harry. I don't know how to express it, but to say that they complete you.”

“Yes indeed.” Said Molly. She stood and came over to the pair. “They're splendid Harry and they make you look ethereally beautiful.” She reassured. 

He turned rather red.

“Would you spread them for us dear, so we can see the whole of them?” She asked.

Harry bit his lip. “Okay, but I'd better not spin.” He said a bit childishly.

“No, I don't suppose you should.” Molly answered.

He spread his wings out and they could all see that the underside of each wing was made up of fine, fluffy, black down. It covered nearly half of each wing. Toward the bottom the feathers gradually became longer and sleeker. The tops of the wings arced gracefully above his shoulders and out to the sides.

“Oh, Harry they're gorgeous.” Hermione gushed. 

The whole room assented.

Harry closed his wings and looked at the floor shyly.

Severus reached out and turned Harry around. “Again.” He said in a slightly husky voice.

Obediently Harry spread his wings once more. On this side of the wing Harry's feathers were like those of a raven. They had overtones of shimmering midnight blue throughout, to highlight the deep black that was the color of his hair.

Harry felt a gentle hand stroke down his right wing and warm breath in his ear. “You are exquisite my little one. Simply lovely.” He leaned into the touch. It felt so wonderful to have Severus touching him; to hear this feature of himself, that he had feared would be hated, praised as beautiful. He let the wings drift closed as he leaned fully against the strong chest behind him. 

Severus used his body to turn Harry around to face the table again. Once they were looking at Harry's adopted family and friends again Snape leaned down to whisper in the tasty little ear. “You see. You had nothing to fear. All those who matter, believe your wings to be a mark of beauty. You needed but to speak your fears to them, and they would have been allayed, no?” 

“Yes.” Harry sighed.

Snape looked up as Madam Pomfrey checked her pocket watch. He stood away from Harry and they looked at one another.

“Well, if you're finished showing off, let's get some breakfast into you before Madam Pomfrey decides you need another check up.” Snape drawled.

Harry gave a little laugh and stood on tiptoe to plant a peck on the sarcastic cheek. “Let's” He said.


	32. Harry Gets a Kiss

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 32: In Which Harry Gets a Kiss.**   


Because he was still, in Madam Pomfrey's opinion, in delicate health Harry's birthday was what Molly called a small affair. Having never had a party before Harry would have been happy no matter what. As it was he had been elated to hear that Fred and George, Bill and Fleur, Professors Dumbledore, Lupin, Hagrid and Snape all were coming to dinner. Tables had been set up in the yard and Molly had filled them with all of Harry's favorites.

They had feasted most finely when finally they had the cake. They sang Happy Birthday in a lively manner, if a bit off key, as Fred and George marched the cake out of the kitchen towards the tables. It was a lovely affair with icing and candles and a wooden train on top that Mr. Weasley charmed to run round and round on a licorice track.

“Mum, why'd you put that thing on there?” Ron complained after the birthday boy had blown out his candles. “Harry's sixteen, not six.”

Molly hushed him and Harry reddened. “I like it.” Harry said. 

“Well 'course you would.” Said Hagrid. “Never got one when you was young, did ya?” He nodded sagely, remembering his young friend's happiness five years ago when he'd gotten his first cake in an old shack, on an island in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“No, but I've got one now.” Said Harry happily, “and it's all the better for the waiting.”

He stood and hugged Molly and the stood at her side to make the first cut. They had all told him that when he did so he should make a wish. He closed his eyes and fervently prayed that all this was real as he pushed the knife into the cake. Hermione’s hand stopped him from pulling the knife out again. 

“Someone else has to pull it out. It gives you a better chance of having your wish come true.” She told him.

He let go of it and she cut the first piece and put it on a plate. When she handed it to Harry he surprised her by presenting it to Mrs. Weasley. The next piece he gave to Mr. Weasley and so on until he had given a piece of cake to everyone in attendance save Hermione and himself. She gave him a piece which he set aside and he took the last piece from her and presented it back again. She thanked him and seated herself to eat.

Harry sat then at the head of the table by his cake and picked up his piece to eat it. He closed his eyes on the first bite to savor it and once he had swallowed he said. “Mrs. Weasley, this is the best cake I've ever had. Thank you.”

“Oh, you're welcome dear. Happy Birthday.” She said.

Everyone echoed Harry's compliments on the cake and Fred and George began handing round second pieces to anybody who would take one. They, of course, took second pieces themselves as well.

When Harry's cake plate was empty Hermione slid a wrapped present in front of him. Harry looked momentarily surprised and then thanked her.

“You're supposed to thank me after you open it.” She teased.

Harry pulled the ribbon on the paper and it exploded into shooting stars.

“Ooh, Very nice Miss Granger.” Said Professor Dumbledore laughingly.

He laughed harder when he noticed that Bill, Severus, Harry and Remus had all drawn their wands on the package.

Bill and Lupin shared a laugh putting their wands away. 

Snape was looking at Harry.

“While I am impressed at the speed in which you armed yourself Mr. Potter, one must wonder from whence that wand came.” He drawled.

Hermione looked at her friend. It was true. In his cut off shorts and bare feet their did not seem to be anywhere to secret a wand. Today had been hot and humid as the bright summer sun had dried up the rain. In addition Harry did not as yet own anything that would allow him to put a shirt on with his wings.

Harry blanched and swallowed. “I think I summoned it.” He said worriedly. He looked at Mr. Weasley who had been through his first trial with him. He felt the panic rising in him. He'd been bad. 

“No one is angry Harry.” Mr. Weasley said calmly. “With this many kids growing up we've warded the property so that accidental magic doesn't register with the ministry here. In fact Fred and George created all kinds of havoc before they were seventeen and we never heard a word about it. Just keep it on home ground son.”

Harry launched himself from his chair and threw his arms around Mr. Weasley's neck. Arthur hugged him back tightly. The younger man's eyes were brimming with tears. “You called me...son.” He whispered. 

Arthur nodded. “Yes, you are our son. This is your home. Now go and look at the book Hermione brought you.” He laughed.

“How do you know it's a book?” Hermione asked, as Mr. Weasley was on the opposite side of the table from the parcel and the remains of the cake were in the way.

When they all laughed she exclaimed, “Honestly, last year I sent him chocolate.” 

Harry went back and looked at the book. He read the cover aloud, “Legends and Lore of the Shefro of old. Thank you.” He hugged her and then found that another gift, and then another were pressed into his hands.

Hermione’s was the only gift that had the shooting star paper, but as she explained, “It's something the gentleman in Flourish and Blotts does if you ask him to. You should have seen my Dad's face when he opened his last month.” She giggled to Ginny.

Harry was sitting, slightly bewildered, behind a pile of presents large and small when a shadow fell over him. He craned his neck around and saw the tall dark potions master standing behind him.

Snape shifted from foot to foot with uncharacteristic ill ease. He was looking at his feet rather than at the figure seated in front of him, his shining black hair a curtain before his eyes. He looked up at someone across the table. Harry looked round also and saw Mrs. Weasley nodding and waving her hands at the tall man encouragingly.

He took a steadying breath and knelt down beside the young shefro's chair. He coughed once and looked down again. 

Harry's eyes drifted closed. It was his sixteenth birthday. The day this man had told him he would be old enough to be kissed. Was he regretting that now? He'd held him many times after therapy and had allowed Harry to hug him and kiss his cheek. Harry vacillated between giddily awaiting the promised kiss and wretchedly expecting to be rejected thrice in rapid succession when the potions master spoke.

“Harry, I have a gift for you also. I hope it will be special to you.” He paused at this point to remove a small leather pouch from his robe pocket.

“In the wizarding world when an older man, like myself, approaches a young lady or gentleman it is customary for him to give a promise ring. I would like to give this ring to you Harry. I would like to court you.” Snape had never been so nervous in his life. Not when his life depended upon his words in the dark lord's presence, nor when his job was at stake the first day of teaching, not even when his honor was at stake when crawling back to Albus Dumbledore. Today this young person, on the very cusp of manhood held his happiness, ready to crush it or cherish it. He'd never even had the hope of happiness until recently. Hoping felt so good, but was hope in vain.

“Oh...” Harry said. “Oh, I...yes please..yes.” He was breathless with excitement. Hermione had been talking about formal courtships only days ago. She'd been rattling away about romantic traditions and promise rings and marriage.

Severus' normally dexterous fingers had tried three times to extract the ring from the bag when he finally resorted to upending it over his palm. The ring lay shining in the palm of his hand. The world dropped away. In this moment, for each of them, there was only the other. The party and the cake, the friends and the family that surrounded them faded into obscurity. 

Harry bent over the outstretched palm of his love and looked at the ring, as though afraid to touch it. It appeared to be strands of the finest silver twisted and knotted into a delicate filigree. He looked up and whispered, “Are you sure, sir? This looks too fine for-”

“Nothing is too fine for you my little lion.” Severus cut him off. “It is you who will adorn this trinket, not the other way around.” He murmured.

Slowly and ever so gently a small finger caressed the ring. Harry began to raise his fingertip off the ring and paused. Holding his finger a couple of inches above Snape's palm he bent his head and examined the air between the ring and his outstretched digit. He looked up at the older man and tipped his head.

Severus looked also and saw nothing. “What is it little one?” He asked quietly.

Harry took the finger of his other hand and made to pluck the string as he had seen guitar players do. He felt a vibration of magic down his arm and the scent about Severus that always made him feel so safe became stronger.

For his part the potions master felt a surge of love and protectiveness for the young man before him. 

“That's magic, that is.” Harry said softly.

“Yes, once you put on the ring you will have vowed yourself to one year of accepting my suit. I will have vowed myself to keep our relationship within the bounds of propriety. There are, or course, various other things involved.” The professor paused for a moment, a frown creased his brow. “I had forgotten you would not be familiar with all that a courtship entailed.” He looked up regretfully. “I did not mean to push you. Perhaps you ought to think about it.” He began to close his fingers around the ring.

“No.” Harry said. “Please. I...I didn't. Please I didn't mean to spoil it. I-” He began to panic a little.

All the guests who had been pretending not to look turned avid eyes upon the scene at this point.

“Hush, my angel.” Severus said softly as he opened his hand once more.

“Harry James Potter will you accept this promise ring and vow to seriously accept my suit for your hand by entering into a year of courtship with me?” He asked with great ceremony.

“Yes please.” Harry whispered.

Hermione whispered behind him, “Severus Snape I accept this ring.”

“Severus Snape I accept this ring.” He echoed.

“And I vow to consider your suit for marriage...” She prompted.

“And I vow to consider your suit for marriage...” Harry repeated breathlessly.

“Over the course of a one year honorable courtship.” She finished and backed off.

“Over the course of a one year honorable courtship.” this last line dropped from Harry's lips and he saw the pale blue line become a richer color.

Severus plucked the ring from his palm and slid it onto Harry's finger where it warmed slightly and sized itself perfectly. The young man held his own hand up to examine the ring and with and elated “O ooh” he took Severus head in both hands and impulsively planted a kiss firmly on his lips. He turned bright red and pulled back to say, “Oh, I'm sorry.” Then without letting go he looked down shyly and whispered, “May I kiss you?”

Severus whispered back playfully “Yes”, his crooked little smile firmly in place. He felt Harry's fingers tighten in his hair. Warm breath played against his face and then soft lips ghosted over his. Snape gently pressed his lips against them in answer. 

The potions master felt the soft sigh of the younger man's exhalation and just when he thought Harry would pull shyly away he felt the press of his little one's mouth more ardently against his own. He felt his bottom lip gently sucked into the warmth of the younger man's partially open mouth and felt Harry's tongue run over the lip several times before he let out a near silent whimper. The little shefro heard the sound and fearing he had done something wrong he broke the kiss.

During their kiss Severus had raised himself up onto both knees and Harry had turned on his stool so that his upper body was against Severus while his knees stayed turned to the front. When Harry tried to break away Snape wrapped his hands around the narrow waist before him and pulled the younger man into an embrace that put their mouths right next to one another's ears.

“Do not run away.” he breathed into the delicate shell beside his mouth. “Tell me, where did you learn to kiss like that?” He asked a little jealously.

“I'm sorry. Did I do it wrong?” Harry asked nervously. He had very much liked the kiss, but maybe people weren't meant to kiss like that.

“Oh, no. You did it very right little one.” Severus purred.

“Oh, good.” Said Harry. “I like kissing you. You taste so good.” At this point he began to giggle, then sighed and laid his head on the black clad shoulder before him. His heart was pounding in his throat and he felt as though he had run a long distance.

Once the rest of the group realized that the show was over they began to clap. Harry sat bolt upright, a shocked expression on his face. He looked around at them in wonder.

“Forgot they were there did you.” Snape smirked. Frankly he was overjoyed to have been able to transport Harry so completely.

Harry had pinked and was giggling. Upon request he held out his ring for Hermione, Ginny and Fleur to see. By the time Mrs. Weasley came over a tear had trickled down his cheek and he was smiling a bit too brightly.

Severus laid a hand on the shoulder of his young betrothed and felt that a fine tremor was running through him. He plucked the calming draft Madam Pomfrey had armed him with from his pocket and put it to the lips he had lately been kissing. Harry drank it without question and then showed the ring to Molly, who, though she had seen it already, told him how lovely it was and how well it suited him. 

She checked his temperature and determined that he ought to have some of the cocoa the twins were bringing out now. Bill was bringing coffee and tea for those who preferred them. Mr. Weasley sent Ginny and Ron in to help carry out some of the fruit and dainties to have with the coffee.

Snape knelt down once more and slid one hand around Harry's waist and the other under his knees. He lifted his love and then sat down with him on his lap. Harry snuggled into the broad chest beneath him. With one arm hooked under Severus' arm and resting on the same shoulder and the same wing splayed across the older man's upper arm and back, Harry was able to be cradled in the warmth and scent of his love, while he drank his chocolate. Severus handled his tea equally well showing one and all that they fit together and were comfortable with one another in truth.

Harry examined the line of blue that joined him to his love and noted that there were other lines visible now. He could see a dark line that ran from beneath Snape's shirt sleeve off into the distance that he was relatively sure connected him to Voldemort. 

He could see a royal blue line between Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. He watched while Fred Levitated himself yet another piece of cake and saw that a brightly colored yellow line joined his wand and the cake plate until Fred set it down and began to eat.

Once conversations had sprung up around them and they were no longer the center of attention he whispered to Severus, “I can see magic.”

Snape's brows drew together. “I see it every day.” He said wondering what Harry was getting at. Surely after his weeks at the burrow he'd become acclimatized to the wizarding world once more.

“What do the different colors mean?” Harry asked.

“What colors?” the professor asked curiously.

“Well the line from the promise ring to your hand is baby blue and the line between Mr. And Mrs. Weasley is royal blue, the line from you to Vol- the Dark Lord is nearly black and the levitate charm was yellow.” Harry looked blearily around to see if he could find more colors to ask about.

Severus thought for a moment. The researcher in him wanted to question the boy and run tests to see what this revelation meant, but he reigned in that side of his being and remembered that Harry had had more excitement already tonight than he ought. He resolved to investigate it more fully when his young love was up to it.

“Ah, I do not see magic the way you do Mr. Potter. You are more gifted than I. We shall research it and test it out at a more suitable time, but I think you have begun to come into your power more fully. Being able to see the physical manifestation of the power the rest of us just wield is something I think you will find most useful. For now I think you should drink up your chocolate.”

“It's finished.” Harry said with a sleepy smile.

Severus set both of their empty cups on the table then tucked Harry a little closer to his chest. Before long Harry's eyes drifted closed. Harry's friends and family continued to eat and drink and chat in the warm summer evening whilst he slipped into sleep as the sun sank down on the best birthday party that ever was.


	33. The Students Return to School.

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 33: In Which The Students Return to School.**   


Standing in the train station looking at the Hogwarts Express Harry was amazed how quickly the summer had flown. He had had therapy every morning and had spent many a fine afternoon with his betrothed. It had turned out that Hermione had known all about Severus and the promise ring. That was why she had been going on about courtships. She had made sure Harry was informed ahead of time what to expect.

Harry was very happy that the courtship entailed their relationship remaining chaste. He was very comfortable with being close to his potions master and loved all the affection the man poured on him. He was, however, still coping with the sexual abuse that had been heaped on him. It would be a mistake for Harry to enter into a physical relationship until he was very certain it was what he wanted.

Hermione’s gift turned out to be a source of many an afternoons' investigation. The three friends were often joined by Ginny or Snape while they tried to work out which parts of the book were legend and which were fact. They had found that Harry didn't use his wand to increase his magic but rather to limit it. He always had. Spells done without the wand tended to get rather out of the ordinary results.

For example a simple “Expelliarmus” performed without his wand disarmed not only the young shefro's opponent, Ron, but also the spectators, Hermione, Ginny and Professor Snape. They were all rather surprised when in addition Molly's wand flew through the kitchen window moments later and hit the back of Harry's head before careening into his hand. Once the window was repaired and all the wands were returned Severus thanked Circe that the wards prevented any neighboring wizards to be missing their wands as well.

They had investigated what the different colors of magic meant and found that charms were normally yellow and that transfiguration spells were red. Defensive spells were green. There were times when a charm used for defense would give off a greenish tinge and there were times when the hues were so mixed that Harry couldn't tell what color he was looking at. 

Complicated spells seemed to entail strands from each discipline. Bonds, promises and vows were blue. Long standing or very strong ones of these were darker than ones that were newly formed. When examined very closely the strand that bound his beloved to the dark lord Harry found it was a blue strand that was tangled with a black strand. This was the only black strand Harry had yet to see.

Hermione had later put the kibosh on Ron and Harry's idea that it might be fun to see if the latter could glide on his wings, despite the fact that he was no where near able to wing himself a lit from the ground. She had insisted that dropping from a height with his wings spread would only cause Harry to pull the new muscles in his back. Severus found them in the midst of this argument one afternoon.

“I'm telling you, all you are going to do is hurt yourself.” Hermione insisted.

“No I won't. I'll be just like a kite or a hang glider. You've seen those work.” Harry insisted.

“Yeah Hermione. His wings will act like a kite glider.” Ron added.

Hermione’s voice shot up an octave. “Ronald you don't have the faintest idea what you're saying. This is dangerous. Harry is going to break something!”

“Dangerous?!?” Harry asked incredulously. “And going after the stone, facing a three headed dog wasn't dangerous! Come on Hermione.” 

“Are you going to hold that against me forever?” Hermione asked surprised.

Harry looked lost for a second. “What? I don't hold that against you. How could that be your fault?”

“That's besides the point mate. She's trying to sidetrack you.” Ron pointed out.

“Oh.” Harry paused for a moment. He looked at Ron. “Where was I?” He asked Ron.

“Indeed Mr. Potter. Where, exactly, is this argument leading?” 

The three friends turned to look at Snape as he leaned against the garden wall observing them. 

Ron was standing and holding one end of a ladder and Hermione was holding the other. It appeared as though they were about to play tug of war with it. 

Hermione turned to the tall dark man desperately. “These two...nitwits are determined to find out how far Harry can glide from the top of the garage on his wings.” 

While Ron sagged in defeat, his black haired brother nodded keenly.

Snape's eyebrows made a concerted effort to migrate to his hairline. “Kitchen Mr. Potter. Now.”

In retrospect Harry was glad he hadn't tried it . Today, a bare three weeks later, his wings nearly four inches longer, he could almost raise himself from the ground by wing power alone. If he ran and jumped he could glide for a bit, but after doing it three or four times his muscles ached. Madam Pomfrey had increased the amount of milk she wanted him to drink and suggested he keep at it, exercising his new muscles, tendons and bones.

When he pulled his wings tight to his body they now crossed midway down his thigh. He had special robes and trousers tailored by Madam Malkin and he suspected that his afternoon in Diagon Alley had prepared all of his school mates for the wings he now sported. They none of them looked overly surprised at his change in appearance, as he pushed his trolley down the platform with his wings cascading down his back and mingling in the folds of his blue summer weight robes.

The first years, as always, whispered audibly to one another, “There's Harry Potter.” While his classmates greeted or ignored him as was their wont. The only real difference was that instead of baiting him or bothering him as they had formerly done Malfoy and his cronies merely ignored him.

For his part Harry kept his distance from Malfoy. His love had told him that the Dark Lord had given some task to young Draco. Snape had asked his little Gryffindor to leave his fellow student to his own devices; the better to allow him the room he needed to feel he was safely unobserved.

Hermione and Ron both headed for the prefects meeting while Harry and Ginny settled themselves in a train car. They were soon joined by Neville, Dean and Seamus. All of whom wanted to see Harry's wings first hand. Once Harry had got this over with, he felt he could deal well enough with the rest of the school, now he had his dorm mates on his side.

The train ride and the ride in the carriage were both uncomfortable for Harry as the benches left no place for his wings. The thestrals all watched him with an interest they'd never shown before and all in all Harry was never so glad as he was this day to reach the Great Hall and sit down to feast.

Professor Dumbledore appeared at the head table to speak his usual few words and inform them of the new items Filch had decided to outlaw. Harry's eyes widened when he saw the state of the man. The headmaster's arm was black and shrunken. Rather like the fighead that hung in the window of the Knight Bus. Harry ate so little that meal that Hermione fussed and Severus glared, but the little shefro could think of nothing but Albus' arm.

After feast when the prefects and professors had their hands full of getting the younger students settled, Harry made his way to the headmaster's office. He examined the gargoyle and found that he could see how the stone guarded the entryway. He'd always been under the impression that it was a charmed statue. Imagine his surprise to find that it was a living being of a sort. He was gazing at the face of the creature trying to figure out what it was about the “statue” that told him it was living. 

He stroked the statue feeling the life in the stone. When he concentrated he could smell the magic within the stone. It had a slightly different from the smell of the structure of the castle itself. He became completely engrossed in examining the differences and similarities of the two rocks when Professor Dumbledore came upon him.

The Headmaster stopped when he spotted his student leaning, eyes closed, one hand on the wall and the other hand on the statue. The young man turned first to the one, and then the other testing their magical textures and divining what he could about them. He observed the young man, nearly grown now, with his wings standing slightly out from his shoulders flexing and rolling slightly each time he shifted. His head tipped to the side in concentration. He sniffed at the statue, then the wall and then eyes still closed he began to turn towards Albus as though he were drawn by a string. He froze and then asked, “Professor Dumbledore?”

“The very same.” The professor said smiling. 

Harry's eyes opened. “I was waiting for you sir.” Harry said.

“So I thought my boy.” Dumbledore sighed. He was fairly certain that the boy wanted the story behind his cursed arm.

“Lemon Drops.” He said to the gargoyle who then stepped aside allowing them both entry to the spiral staircase and the headmaster's office beyond it.

“Sir, if I am wrong and your arm has nothing to do with the fight against Voldemort then you needn't speak of it.” Harry said as soon as the office door was closed.

Dumbledore peered at Harry. “First tell me how you feel when you look at me now. Last year you could not look at me without all of Tom's hatred welling up in your heart.”

Harry looked into the old blue eyes before him and tried to find the well of anger that had nearly overwhelmed him. He found that it was gone.

“I do not feel angry sir.” Harry thought for a bit. “I am not good at this yet. More than a month of solid daily therapy and I still have trouble defining my emotions.” 

Harry stood and fixed the tea for himself and the headmaster when a house elf popped in with it. He settled into a comfortable chair across from the headmaster's desk. “I have a deep respect for you.” He began solidly. “I feel worried.” He added waving a hand toward the arm. He closed his eyes as though to better examine the feelings whirling around inside his head. “I am sometimes awed by you; sometimes jealous. The control you exercise.” Harry nodded once he opened his eyes feeling his emotional inventory to be complete.

Dumbledore nodded his appreciation of Harry's honesty and then he drew out a pensive for the two of them to look at. He showed and told Harry how he had come to search for the ring that had stolen the life from his arm. 

“I would truly like to see a Horcrux. I wonder if it has the same lines from it, back to Voldemort that the dark mark does?” Harry supposed.

Albus eyebrows rose in question and with a little coaxing the young shefro was describing what he saw when he looked at magic being cast or in an object to which it was bound. 

“I don't think you would see the connection my boy. I believe that the connection requires Voldemort's consciousness to be strong in it to be visible. If Voldemort is pushed to a position where he must move on, or perish, his conscious mind must travel to the piece of his soul he would next inhabit.” The Headmaster explained.

“I think he made six Horcrux, the seventh bit of his soul residing in his body, at the time of his apex of power. I am sure he hoped to be indestructible.” 

Harry nodded here. Immortality was certainly Tom Riddle's goal. 

Dumbledore continued, “Then he heard the prophesy that indicated you would be his downfall. When your mother's love rebounded the killing curse back onto him one piece of his life-force was eliminated. He had to migrate to another bit of soul using one and leaving five Horcrux remaining. After he was forced to leave Quirrell's body he clearly moved to the diary. You destroyed that before he'd even fully formed, leaving four Horcrux. He used one to regain the quasi human form you saw in your dream in the Riddle house, leaving three Horcrux. I have eliminated the ring. Which leaves two Horcrux and the bit of his soul that resides in his body.”

“So we've been eliminating them all along.” Harry ventured.

“Yes my boy we have.” The headmaster smiled sadly. “Or mostly you have. Three to one for you my boy.” He saluted Harry with his teacup.

The young Gryffindor drew his eyebrows together. “I wasn't aware we were keeping score, besides I did all of mine on dumb luck.” He shrugged.

“What I want to see professor is your arm.” Harry stated bluntly. He'd hedged around it all through their two cups of tea and now he felt that if he didn't come to the point Dumbledore would hold him off forevermore.

The Headmaster sighed. “Harry some of the best healers and curse-breakers have looked at this arm...”

He reluctantly drew up his sleeve and allowed his young friend to have a look at the damage done by the cursed ring. He pulled back when the shefro went to touch him.

“Do not touch Harry.” The old man said.

“I promise not to try anything, but I need to...look with everything.” He shifted forward pleadingly.

The white haired man brought up his good hand and took Harry's hand. “Sense what you will with all your skills, but alter nothing. Agreed?” 

Green eyes came up to meet blue and the young man nodded.

Harry knelt close to his beloved teacher and examined the cursed arm. He touched and sniffed and gazed at the arm in rapt concentration for some minutes. When he had done he said, “Sir, this curse is progressing rapidly. It needs to be stopped tonight.” 

“Harry, it is late. You must be very tired.” Albus said. 

“Sir, it is still doing damage.” The young man insisted. Dumbledore nodded.

Harry stood and started toward the door. “I will go and get Professor Snape from the dungeons and you meet me at the infirmary with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick.” 

Dumbledore waved at him to stop. “I do not want you to try _anything_ my boy.” He could feel the curse killing him and felt sure that Harry could do nothing to help and would endanger himself.

Harry froze physically but magically it was as though all but Harry had gone still. The wings facing the desk rose and fell with the young man's sudden burst of emotion. The very air was charged with power. The shefro was breathing in oxygen and exhaling raw magic. The tower began to shake in time with the little one's breaths. 

In the very bowels of the castle the potions master felt it. Something was dreadfully wrong. Something was wrong with his precious one. Unthinking, guided by the call of his little lion's heart he ran towards the gargoyle. Spitting the password as he sprinted toward the portal he threw himself through the open door and up the spiral stairs with utmost haste.

In the tower office Fawkes had flown to Harry's shoulder and was trilling in the young man's ear. He was trying his best to help the young wizard to reign his emotions, and therefore his magic, back in.

Harry was desperate now. Trying to control this mass of power he had unwittingly tapped into. He could see it filling the air around him.

The door in front of his face opened and Severus appeared before him. 

“Hush.” The tall dark man said.

His arms were full of sobbing boy. “He thinks I'll hurt him. He won't let me help him...he...he's going to...it's killing him.” He was clearly trying to calm himself. The pressure of magic in the room had become less oppressive. 

Dumbledore closed his eyes. He thought about Harry and about how his reluctance to have the young shefro touch him and try to help him, would be interpreted by an emotionally unstable, insecure wizard like young Mr. Potter.

“Oh, Harry.” Severus murmured into messy black hair.

The young man took a steadying breath. “He thinks I am just a...a...” He looked up at the man holding him and whispered bitterly, “a weapon.”

“No!” Dumbledore contradicted. “I am afraid you will hurt yourself Harry.”

Harry's eyes narrowed. He sniffed in the old man's direction turning toward him. He was telling the truth.

“I won't. Please Sir, let me help you.” The little Gryffindor begged.

“You can't save me Harry. We will only risk losing you.” Dumbledore said.

Black wings were beginning to try to wrap around the trembling young man. He looked back at the man he loved. “I can't just watch it eat him.” He hissed.

Snape nodded. Together they drew their wands and in unison they said, “Stupefy.”


	34. We Visit the Hospital Wing

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 34: In Which We Visit the Hospital Wing.**   


“Madam Pomfrey?” Harry called quietly. He knew that there could be more than one student in the infirmary on this, the first night of school. He did not wish to disturb them. He pulled the privacy curtains around the stupefied form of the Headmaster and went in search of the mediwitch.

A few minutes later he drew her back down the floor, from her office towards the closed curtain. The muted sound of her heels clicking was slowed by the quiet creak of the door, as Severus led Professor's Flitwick and McGonagall into the hospital wing.

Harry had brought with him a roll of parchment and Dumbledore's favorite packet of inks which contained fifteen different colors. He really only needed five, but he thought that more was better than not enough and he'd always loved the pretty inks. It made him think of the crayons Dudley had had and Harry had longed for.

He laid down the parchment below the injured arm after baring it back to the, currently unaffected, shoulder. He traced the arm and then laid the parchment beside it. He spoke as he wrote.

“There are several curses and charms that are interwoven into the Headmaster's arm. They seem to be latching on to the blood vessels here and here.” He pointed out the spots for Madam Pomfrey.

“You'll find that those return the blood to the heart Mr. Potter.” She told him.

“I was afraid of that.” He sighed grimly. “The curse is spreading. I can easily stop it from doing so by _disconnecting_ it, but it would probably reattach itself in a matter of time. Um...I think, with your help, I can reverse it all the way down the arm.” 

He looked around at the four of them. Madam Pomfrey had been aware of Harry's ability to see magic and manipulate it, because the teens had kept her abreast of each of their new discoveries. Snape had explained these facts to his two colleagues on the way to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey went and got her rolling potions cupboard and took out a pepper up potion for herself and Mr. Potter. They each drank one and then the young shefro began to draw on the parchment once more.

He pointed out the three strands of the spell with the different colored inks. He also drew in the veins and muscles they had woven themselves into. Then he described how he hoped to work each strand loose. Madam Pomfrey would heal the damage he was creating when he pulled at the Headmaster's arm. Repairing the damage already done should now be a possibility for her. Each of the other three would be needed to neutralize the strand that Harry would coax out of Dumbledore and onto their wands. The trust required for this was tantamount and thus Harry asked Severus to be the first. 

With one hand on his own wand the little Gryffindor coaxed the strand up out of the prone figure. With the other hand on Severus wrist the shefro guided the larger hand to place the potion master's wand under the strand. The four adult wizards watched the old man's body jerk slightly, drawn as though by invisible threads.

Then Harry twisted his own wand around the potion master's wand, rather as though he were knitting, causing the strand to adhere more firmly to it. At this point Snape could feel the tension of the evil spell pulling at his wand. He could not see or smell it, but he could feel something gently drawing his arm back towards the headmaster's prone form. He tensed his arm and halted its forward movement.

The younger man watched the tiny loop of the curse as it lay against the dark wood of his love's wand. He kept the tip of his on wand against the headmaster's skin to keep the loop in place. Once he was certain the loop was not going to slip either direction Harry said, “Um...I...Uh...Dragon hide gloves?” rather uncertainly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded briskly, as though invisible surgery happened every day in her ward. “Two minutes Mr. Potter.” She bustled off.

Harry turned towards Severus half expecting to be told off for not thinking ahead. 

“Sorry Sir...I didn't think...I forgot...” Harry's eyes were wide.

A smile tugged the straight line of Severus lips up at one corner. “Hush.” He said reassuringly.

Professor McGonagall cut in. “Being that no one has ever tried this procedure before we are not expecting perfection Mr. Potter.” 

Flitwick made agreeable noises while straining his eyes to try and see whatever it was that the two younger men had pulled out of the headmaster.

Harry looked down and inhaled deeply as though to breathe in the encouragement that his head of house had offered. “Thank you ma'am. When Madam Pomfrey brings the gloves will you please put one on Professor Snape's free hand and then once he switches wand hands put one on the other hand.” 

He looked up at the tall dark man beside him. “Sir I don't want your exposed hands so close to this thing once I start unraveling it from Professor Dumbledore. I am not sure what it would take for the curse to spread.” He said 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “And what about your hands Mr. Potter?” He queried.

“I can see the strand.” He said this last word as though it were something yucky that one might step in. “I'm not likely to put my hand in _that_.” He gave a shiver of disgust. 

Snape leaned forward and said in one of his most dangerous voices. “Just see you don't.”

Harry's heart grew three sizes, fed by the fierce protectiveness in the man's voice.

Madam Pomfrey returned and once Minerva had helped Severus on with the Gloves she asked Harry to describe what he was about to do. Harry did so and they proceeded.

At this point Snape's job was to do little but anchor his wand. Dumbledore's arm and shoulder had been anchored to the bed by a charm from Professor Flitwick after their patient had been spelled unconscious by the mediwitch. 

Harry used his wand to pry and spell the strand out of the arm. He used a series of counter curses and even curses on the thing. It was reacting almost as though the will of the caster still drove it.

As the strand cut the arm open on it's way out Madam Pomfrey alternately poured potions and healing spells on the muscle, tendons, veins and skin restoring them to health. Blood was once more flowing into the limb and though was still black, it was no longer shriveled.

Once they reached the wrist twenty minutes later they had to slow enormously. The curse had wound it self around all the intricate tendons and muscles. It took them a further half hour to reach the point where Harry needed to stop.

“Okay...the next twist is the end.” Harry said and everyone sighed.

“Once I get it looped on my wand Professor, you and I are going to step away and let Madam Pomfrey tend the hole it will leave.” Snape checked behind him for space and nodded. His shoulders were aching and his hands were sweating in the hot gloves.

Harry continued, “Then I am going to try to _incendio_ the strand. You had better cast a freezing charm at the same time to protect your wand and keep the strand from infecting you.” 

Snape nodded again, “Very good. Are you certain about the fire spell destroying it?”

“Well it seems to feed on his blood increasing its own mass and strength with it, so I imaging fire will do the trick.” Harry said earnestly. 

He began to chew is bottom lip. “If is doesn't work I'll cast the sunlight charm and if that doesn't work we'll have to work it back onto my wand and then bottle my wand. Oh...no wait...I'll need my wand for the second and third strand-” His eyebrows drew together.

“Mr. Potter if those two spells do not work we will bottle my wand. Agreed?” Snape said.

Harry looked at the strand. He could not stand the idea of Severus being without his wand. He was certain the fire spell would work though, so nervously he nodded.

“But Mr. Potter,” McGonagall interrupted. She waved one gnarled but graceful hand at Snape. “He'll need bare skin on his wand to cast any spell.”

“Uh...Yes...of course, thank you ma'am.” He turned and examined Severus' wand minutely. “Sir take you front hand and slide it up about half an inch.” Harry instructed.

Snape complied and then tilted his head in a rather Harry-like manner.

“Okay now Professor McGonagall will take off the glove when you let go. When you grab on again be sure to grab as far down the wand as you can.” The student went on.

When Severus took his hand off the wand Harry carefully checked the handle to be sure there was no part of the strand below the top glove. Once both hands were firmly on the wand the older man snugged his bare hand under the gloved one to shield himself from the fire spell his young love would shortly cast.

They extracted the last piece of the first strand of the curse and it burned up as Harry had predicted. When he could see it no more he bent low to sniff and minutely examine the potion master's wand. Only once he was positive that the wand contained no trace of the spell did he remove his own wand from where he had crossed it with Snape's.

“It should be clean sir.” Harry assured.

Snape nodded and cast a diagnostic on the wand, then he cast a cleaning spell upon it and slid it into his robes.

They hastened back to the bed where Madam Pomfrey had a few potions waiting.

“Severus will you force these two blood replenishing potions and this nutrient muscle builder down the Headmaster's throat. I would like to examine our young healer there if I may.” She smiled at them both.

Once she had ascertained that Harry was none the worse for wear, merely a little tired and sore from standing and doing the meticulous work of freeing the Headmaster from the curses, she fed him another pepper-up potion and they began the second strand.

It was Flitwick this time who was lending his wand to Harry's macabre knitting. Once again the blood flowed and the tissue was torn. 

This time Professor Snape administered the potions for Madam Pomfrey. It took him back to his apprentice days. When he had done his stint at St. Mongo's watching the healers and making draughts and simples when they needed them. They worked well together the three of them. Flitwick almost felt like a cog in a machine. 

This strand they loosed in half the time, but Harry did not look so well as he had after the first one. He was pale and Madam Pomfrey found him to be slightly feverish.

“Are you sure we should go on?” She asked him.

Harry sighed. “I'm fine. My magic is as strong as ever. It's just very tense work...” He paused and looked down at his feet.”And I am frightened. ” He confessed.

The three conscious professor's joined them while Harry elaborated.

“One thing we learned about shefro is that we are very delicate physically and emotionally. We even tend to have physical responses to emotional...stimuli...I think is the work Hermione used.” He continued to examine the floor during this speech and after. 

Severus stepped up beside him and putting an arm around the young man drew him against his side. “Harry's emotional and physical openness allow him to tap into magic the rest of us plain wizards won't ever know. His sympathy and empathy for Professor Dumbledore is allowing us to do this.” He told them all.

“It's a gift my boy.” Flitwick assured the young man.

Harry looked down at the diminutive wizard. If anyone knew that size and magical power had little in relation to one another, it was this man before him. He smiled.

“Thank you sir.” He said.

They continued then to remove the final strand. When they began the arm was no longer black but a sickly yellow color with green splotches. Harry imagined it to be what an arm would look like were gangrene setting in. 

Professor McGonagall watch in awe as the young man coaxed the curse out of the arm before her. She was amazed at his concentration and was certain it required a great effort of will. She noted that Harry hardly blinked and that he was breathing in measured even breaths to keep his body as still as possible. 

There was less bleeding this time. The strand was coming out more cleanly. The lad had got the knack of it.

Once they were done the arm was pale and stiff, but looked well on the way to recovery. Madam Pomfrey finished with her potions and cleaning and diagnostic finding no further foreign magic in the headmaster. She allowed Harry to examine the arm; to reassure himself that he'd gotten it all.

As soon as Harry saw the arm was free of the evil curse that had been upon his revered headmaster he sat down hard upon the floor and began to cry. Snape scooped him up and carried him to the next bed. He sat upon the bed, Harry on his lap.

Snape rocked him and cooed in his ear. “You did well. So well my precious.” 

“He...He's going to be...so...oh...he's going to...oh...”Harry was hyperventilating.

“Hush little one, Hush.” Severus nuzzled the young man he held.

“But...” Harry took a deep breath. He knew he was over-reacting, too charged up from the surgery and overtired as well. “Expelled.” He managed to say.

Severus began to laugh. “Oh, I don't think so. Other wise he'll have to fire the lot of us as well.”

Harry cocked his head. “I hexed a teacher!” He exclaimed.

“Hum, not the first time for that though, is it Mr. Potter?” Severus reminded him of his third year. He very carefully did not mention the fact that Harry had done more than hex professor Quirrell.

“Oh.” Harry said quietly. “So he won't kick me out?” He asked still unsure.

Snape smiled and shook his head. “Not a chance.” 

Harry smiled tiredly. “Brilliant!” He said relieved. He immediately yawned, his body relaxing and his head drooping onto the broad shoulder beneath him. 

Severus rearranged them both so that they could lie down. Harry was spooned in front of him, his tousled head resting on a firm bicep. He kissed the back of his little love's head and felt himself drifting off to sleep.

Across the room Professor Flitwick hissed to Professor McGonagall, “Here now, is that alright madam? That doesn't look entirely proper” He was pointing at the four black clad legs that were tangled on the cot adjacent to Dumbledore's.

Professor McGonagall leaned down to whisper in his ear. “They're under a courtship bond professor.” She sighed. “nothing short of the imperious curse could make Severus do anything improper now.” 

Madam Pomfrey huffed off to relieve the two men of their shoes, which were most decidedly improper on her blankets.


	35. Harry dreams, watches and chats

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 35: In Which Harry dreams, watches and chats**   


It had been six months since Harry had had a good snog with Severus. It seemed that everyone conspired against the pair to ensure that they were never alone, unless they were in public or out of doors. There had been a few tender, but far too hasty, kisses and at the yule ball a number of wonderful dances, but they were never alone long enough for the pair of love birds to become in any way entangled.

Dumbledore had been disinclined to allow Severus to go back to Voldemort. He would have said that it was in the order's best interests to have Severus in full control of his emotional capabilities, in order to aid in Harry's emotional healing. He did indeed say just that at an order of the Pheonix meeting in late August. In his heart though Dumbledore felt that Severus had served long enough. He had not won his case though, as the potions master had come up with a solution to offset the bad effects of the suppressor potion. 

He had managed to come up with a way to make the potion work for merely an few hours at a time. He could take it before a meeting and have his emotions deadened enough to be a convincing _death eater_. Though he had been unable to announce his courtship to young Mr. Potter to the public, they had been told that the stern man's heart had been won over by Mr. Potter and that he was pursuing the boy. Severus had suggested a plan where he win the gryffindor's trust by attempting to woo him in order to bring him to his _master_. 

The Dark Lord was skeptical at first, but Severus pretended to finding out that the young shefro had a crush on him. He was convinced and mere weeks later the Daily Prophet came out with an article about The_Boy_Who_Lived winning the heart of his stern potions master. The Dark Lord was pleased, but understood it would take some time to win the boy's trust and bend his mind appropriately.

Back in September Harry had been elated not to lose the support of his beau. He had not been looking forward to watching those lively black eyes turn cold. Severus was a man of deep feeling. His support and kindness were a balm to the bruised soul of the little shefro. Also Harry had been very pleased to be publicly pursued by the potions master and to see that the man was clearly not ashamed of his association with a young Gryffindor. 

At first, the younger man had been relieved that they hadn't been left alone except in public. He had been pleased that there was no way for sex to enter into their relationship. Now however, half a year later, he was beginning to think that frustration was a worse torture than the cruciatus curse. If he had known that it was indeed his friends and family who arranged this casual chaperonage, he would have been ready to hex the lot of them. 

The chaperons had a loose schedule, formed by the ever obsessive Hermione coupled with the protective Mrs. Weasley. Together these two ladies could bring nature herself to mannerly behavior! Harry's vexation was a testament to their effectiveness.

The young Gryffindor wanted another of those heated kisses he'd had on his birthday. He was achingly ready to taste his love in depth. He lay awake one night, toward the end of January, listening to the snores of his dorm mates and thinking of the afternoon he'd spent on the Hogwarts grounds, wandering hand in hand with the imposing potions master looking at the various snow creatures and scenes the younger years had created. It was a wonder what boys and girls could make with the use of a little snow and a wand.

They had wandered, not with others, but never really alone. At one point they had crossed between two buildings and the younger man had leaned up and stolen a kiss. Before it could deepen he had been hit square in the back with a well placed snowball. He'd jumped in surprise and spun around, but no one had been in sight. Severus had pulled him into a firm embrace, but soon they were among other students once more. They walked on and Harry said very quietly. “I desperately want to kiss you.” 

To which Severus replied, “And I you, but I believe our little snogging session that morning in the infirmary didn't go unnoticed and we shan't have the opportunity to repeat it.” He sighed. Severus' vow to keep things chaste kept him from fighting the chaperonage, but it didn't keep him from regretting it.

Harry closed his eyes lying on his bed and thought back to the kissing they'd done in September. He wondered at himself that it hadn't been a little scary at the time. It had begun with warm security and the wonderful feeling of being close to the tall firm form of the potions master. 

The large warm hands splayed across his lower back, coupled with the firm chest against his own, to heat his blood. He had what he thought to be a strange desire to taste this man he loved. He threaded his fingers into the long fine hair and held Snape's head still so that he could run his tongue along the man's bottom lip slowly, to feel the texture and taste him. When their mouths locked together once more they were both open mouthed and it became instantaneously erotic. Harry's body unconsciously wound itself as tightly as possible to the heat and strength of his love. 

Remembering the sensation, alone in Gryffindor tower, he curled his upper body around his pillow and slid one hand down his body to stroke the front of his over sized y-fronts. He pressed his hand flat against his penis and ground his hips into it. He imagined what it would have been like to grind against the long hard body of one Severus Snape. Soon the pressure was too much and Harry rolled over onto his back, wings splayed to either side, underwear kicked down to the foot of the bed. Once he'd erected a privacy charm he began to stroke up and down his erection. He had found that he liked to pull the foreskin up around the head of his penis and making a kind of cup of his hand he would then thrust up into it. 

Tonight he slid his other hand down and after caressing his testicles he spread his legs wide and ran his fingertips along the slit between his legs. His aunt had always told him that it was dirty, this hole. This however, strangely had the opposite effect she'd intended. He closed his eyes and imagined Severus voice purring things like, “Touch yourself for me.” and “Who's my dirty boy?” Soon he'd begun to thrust his fingers into his vagina and once they were slick and wet he drew them out and then switched hands. 

The slick hand on his torrid erection was heaven and he begun to make little wordless noises with his mouth every time he frigged himself with his fingers. He could not seem to get them deep enough. He was not full enough and so he lifted his leg and putting his arm behind his back instead worked three fingers into his slit and his pinky into his anus. Now he couldn't really work his hand, but he could grind a bit on himself while he worked his cock. He imagined Severus long fingers probing inside him and he orgasmed spraying seamen on his chest and stomach. He eased his fingers out of his vagina and congratulated himself. He had not even come close to dislocating his shoulder this time. He dug up the underwear with his toes and wiped off his stomach with them. 

He watched his hand wiping his stomach with Dudley's old y-fronts and laughed to himself about how disgusted Aunt Petunia would be if she knew. He looked at his other hand and bit his lip. He examined it and sniffed it. He stuck out his tongue and licked it experimentally. Harry found himself wondering momentarily where these urges came from and if there was something wrong with them. Then he recalled all the talks he'd had with the councilor. Talks that thankfully Severus had not attended. 

They had discussed how Harry would be more sexually advanced than others his age because he'd been introduced to the idea early. They'd gone over it again and again. How his natural urges, though they may seem “dirty” to some should be enjoyed as much as possible. The councilor explained that often abused children were sexually precocious wanting to take the pleasure of sex back from their abuser and make it their own. That this was natural and that he should be guided by his own inclinations. As he licked his fingers clean he wished that his inclinations toward Severus could be as easily experimented with.

*****************************

The next day Harry was glad his little session had relaxed him enough to sleep through the night. His nightmares had decreased immensely. Hermione told him that it wasn't any wonder he was coming along so quickly. After all he'd had a more rigorous course of therapy than most in patients at St. Mongo's, coupled with the steadfast support of his newly adopted family. Whether it was therapy or the magic of orgasm induced sleep, he was pleased to be so alert.

Sunday was normally a day that the three of them devoted to studying and practicing their spell-work. It was, more often than not, fairly stress free. Hermione’s plea that they begin to study for exams had been completely crushed under her desire to try to catch Harry up in the library. This did not stop her from drawing up timetables, it merely meant that there was more leeway in them for Ron to exploit during what she termed as “study reading time”.   
Harry normally used the time to drill Ron where the redhead wanted to improve and Ron loved using the time to delve into the mythical powers of his shefro friend. This meant that although it didn't feel much like they were working, they advanced themselves very well just the same.

Today was apparently not meant to be the kind of Sunday they had envisioned. Despite the fact that the death of the Acromantula in the forest had caused Hagrid untold grief, something good had come of it. Dumbledore had advised Harry that this would be a prime example of a time his connection with Hagrid could be of use to the two potion makers in the castle, and perhaps win a bit of favor with Professor Slughorn. 

Thursday all had gone as planned and Severus had managed to get the memories that Dumbledore wanted. Slughorn had relented and given the man the pensieve thoughts he needed to win the trust of Harry, whom the man thought he was still trying to get to entertain his suit. It had happened in a fit of gratitude. Severus had let him keep the bulk of the venom collected from the creature. 

This lead to the stressful Sunday afternoon though. It meant they spent the afternoon going over pensive memories and trying to guess where the next horcrux would be found. The shefro's act of healing the Headmaster in September had led the man to a greater reliance on Harry's maturity and a healthy respect for doing things his way.

The five of them were sequestered together in the Headmaster's office. Harry, Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron and Severus. When the headmaster thought about it he realized that Harry had chosen wisely to include the other three. Hermione who was brilliant at absorbing details, Severus for his observation skills, Ron the tactician who could see his opponent's moves and infer from them where he would go next. He realized that Harry was the true power in the room. The old professor recognized that this boy was likely now in charge. Dumbledore himself was happy to remain the figurehead and hope he infused some wisdom and caution to the youths at the table.

Together they viewed the memories and reviewed them. They discussed and dissected them them all. It seemed that the second to last horcrux was the locket he had gotten in one memory. They talked it around and around. Was the last horcrux the cup Tom Riddle had sought? Perhaps, but there was no evidence of him acquiring it. 

Finally agreeing that nothing further could be wrung out of the memories they took a break. Severus and Dumbledore had erected a silencing bubble but the other three knew they were arguing about Draco Malfoy, again. Snape wanted the boy arrested to keep him from being able to follow the dark lord's orders. Dumbledore continued to allow the boy all the leeway he needed to commit whatever act he was pondering. In truth he hoped that the young Malfoy had a depth of character too great to truly join Voldemort, but Snape maintained that the boy was both fickle and shallow. They each sought out points to support their side and as yet neither had convinced the other. They had both been up to the girls bathroom to question Moaning Myrtle, a dubious suggestion of Harry's that had paid off well. 

Severus had stopped being surprised every time the boy popped out some brilliant suggestion when they were all searching for answers. He'd managed to learn quite a bit by taking the bloody baron with him to that washroom. All of the castle ghosts were much more manageable when he was about. Even the irascible Peeves and the inconsolable Myrtle. They now knew that Draco was assigned to kill someone and to get someone else into the castle. Myrtle had not known the details of the assignment. She knew all about the leverage though. Draco's family were being threatened. Snape knew what kind of a position this put you in, but Dumbledore insisted that the young Mr. Malfoy had a lot of good in him and would make the right choice in the end.

Outside the bubble Ron was lying on the floor replaying the tactical moves of Riddle in his head. Hermione was peering into the headmaster's bookshelf looking over the titles there and sipping her tea. Harry was also drinking tea and munching some special biscuits the house elves made for him. They were full of the kinds of grains and nuts and dried fruit that made Madam Pomfrey happy while tasting so good Harry could never resist them. While nibbling away he mumbled that the cup didn't fit the theme anyways and they were therefore looking for the wrong item.

“Harry what do you mean theme?” Hermione asked.

The youngest of the golden trio looked at the crumbs on his lap. He began picking them up one by one with his right hand and putting them in the palm of his left a bit frantically. He couldn't believe what a mess he'd made. “Sorry, I was rather deep in thought.” He frowned down at his lap.

Hermione moved the dustbin over by the end of her friends knees and swept the crumbs off his lap and into it. Then she casually took his hands and brushed them off over the bin too. When she released him she caught his eye. “You said theme.” 

His small hands twisted in his lap and she wondered if today had been two much pressure on him. He seemed so small and delicate when he was sitting still with his wings behind him. She caught his eye and he nodded, checking to see if the privacy bubble was still up. 

She snapped her fingers over her shoulder at Ron. “Chess boy.” When Ron looked up annoyed she wiggled her finger at him and he got off the floor and came over where they were. He snagged one of Harry's many cookies and put it whole into his mouth.

“We only know a few of the horcrux Harry, what makes you think there's a theme?” She asked.

Ron's eyebrows shot up. “A theme? A ring, a book and a locket? What do they have in common?” 

“The ring and the locket belonged to founders, but the book belonged to Riddle didn't it?” Hermione asked.

Their little friend shrugged, “well I thought...” He trailed off doubtfully and then took a breath and plowed on. He was meant to be Harry Potter here. He couldn't get all wishy washy now! “Look you put sentimental stuff in a diary, right? And in a locket too, yeah? Then the ring is one of those year rings.”

He casually picked it up off the desk and held it out. “See.”

He had thrust the ring under Ron's nose. The redhead was rather nervous about the piece of jewelry. He'd seen what it had done to Dumbledore and didn't fancy having it anywhere near him. As a result he leaned back too far for his crouched pose and toppled to the floor in an ungainly heap.

Hermione giggled, but the headmaster and Severus were drawn to them. The headmaster inquired after Ron's safety while Snape bit out, “Put that down! We do not brandish previously cursed objects at people Mr. Potter.”

Green eyes went wide as saucers. His best girl friends eyes also went wide in shock. The potions master hadn't shouted at Harry for months and months. Her surprise turned to delight when the tall man crossed the office in two steps and fluidly dropped to his knees and lifted her friend's hand to examine it for spell damage.

Satisfied that no damage had been done he lifted the hand to his lips and kissed each finger. In between each kiss he said a word. “Do...Not...Frighten...Me.” Letting the hand drop he lifted Harry's face so that he could see the expressive green eyes. Then he used his thumbs to caress each of Harry's cheeks. He leaned over and whispered, “You are far to dear to me, my angel, to be fiddling with that filthy evil thing.” Planting a kiss next to the lightening bolt scar he stood gracefully and swept back to his seat.

When they had all settled once more Hermione burst out with, “Harry thinks there's a theme to the horcrux.”

The two older men looked at the young shefro and Snape made a get on with it motion with his hand. 

“He thinks they're sentimental things. The diary, the locket and the ring is apparently a keepsake ring.” Hermione stated for him.

“What other kinds of things fit that theme?” Ron said out loud what they were all thinking. 

“Photo Albums” Said Hermione.

“Trophies.” Added Ron.

“Spoons?” suggested Dumbledore

“Photographs.” said Snape.

“Year books.” Added Hermione.

“Get off the books Hermione.” Said Ron, “We've already got one.” He gestured at the diary.

“Wait...I meant...You use them to help you remember. I thought of stuff like a pensive and a remember-all.” Harry said.

“And he put them in places that held some memory to him or gave them to people with whom he shared important events.” He added.

Severus eyes lit up and darkened in intensity. His brows approached each other slightly making a divot Harry wanted to kiss away on his brow.

“Maybe it's nothing.” He murmured.

“Hush.” Snape said, one corner of his mouth turning up. “The diary. When he was coming out of it did it seem to be changing at all?” 

“It seemed to fade, like Ginny...” Harry whispered. “Until I stabbed it.”

“There was a remember-all that faded away and then burst in Goyle's hand in the summer of your second year and Crabbe has a pensieve they say Voldemort gave them that was Rowena Ravenclaw's, but no one can use it.” He said thoughtfully.

“Can you get me a look at it?” Harry asked eagerly.

“I can get into Crabbe's study easily enough.” Snape shrugged elegantly. When Harry lifted his eyebrows he said. “I can poly-juice to look like one of his house elves. I can have it out of the house before they even know I'm there.”

“Yeah...” Ron said, “But just port-key Harry there to look at it and leave it. I don't want us to show our hand by moving it. Crabbe Sr. might mention it is missing and tip Vol...you know who off.”

“I might be able to see the magic on it in a pensieve memory actually” Harry said. 

“Do you really think so my boy?” Dumbledore asked.

Ron rubbed his hands together. “Experiment time.” He said happily.

Hermione shook her head in a good-natured way. “Honestly you sound like a mad scientist.” She chided.

Ron looked at her quizzically and she waved him off. 

“Muggle television” She said dismissively.

Snape watched the by-play amused, but the headmaster was truly enjoying the spectacle. He had not yet seen Ron “investigating” Harry's “powers”.

The youngest Weasley went out of the office to and closed the door. He was gone a few minutes before he called the potions professor out to look. Then he asked the man to pensieve the memory of what he had seen on the floor outside. 

Severus did so and they joined Harry in looking at the memory. They all saw Ron's shoes lying on the floor. 

Once they were back out Ron asked Harry “Did you see and smell of magic on the shoes in the memory?”

The response was, “No.”

“Well you tried.” Dumbledore sighed and Snape pressed his lips together. He did not want to take Harry into that house.

Hermione held up a hand. “Were you finished Harry?” She asked him.

He shook his head.

“What else did you see?” Ron asked.

“Your socks were lying behind the shoes. They were charmed. I could clearly see the magical residue.” Harry said shyly.

Dumbledore clapped his hands. “Wonderful.” He said. “Marvelous. Were you finished that time my boy?”

Again Harry shook his head. “It was kind of a wiggly spell so they were charmed to walk or dance or something.” At this point Snape made a hushing motion towards the older gentleman to prevent him saying anything. Harry was very speaking very quietly. He always did when he discussed things others couldn't see, hear or smell. Eventually he added, “Oh, and I could smell the castle. It has a sort of presence, like a life force, but it is much more spirited in this office than on the landing.”

Snape nodded and waited a moment. “Are you done this time love?” He drawled.

Harry nodded.

“Very good. I shall bring you a pensieve memory of the object and we will see if you can tell anything about it.” 

“If I can smell the life in the castle and see the charm in that memory, I should be able to see the curse and smell the bit of soul in a pensieve too.” Young Mr. Potter affirmed.

They all hoped he was correct and as a credit to Harry's budding leadership skills they all behaved as though he was quite right indeed.


	36. We Find That a Broom Can Be Ridden by Two

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

Note: I am a bad evil person to make you wait so long and so this chapter is the longest one yet. I could take this time to tell you all the computer and health woes that beset me, but you just want to read, don't ya? Go ahead. See if you don't forgive me! ;-)

  
**Chapter 36: In Which We Find That a Broom Can Be Ridden by Two.**  


February saw the first Valentine's day either Harry or Severus had ever looked forward to. Neither had given nor had they received valentines or taken part in parties as children. Severus was able to spoil Harry by presenting him with a new gift each day leading up to Valentine's and on the morning thereof. On the morning of Valentine's he gave his young betrothed a necklace with a pearl and hematite angel on a silver chain that carried protective spells.

Harry teared up when he saw the necklace and asked the tall dark man to put it on him. Once it was on he flung himself into the deep, black robes before him. Severus had learned that the young shefro had had few gifts growing up and he therefore enjoyed his week of sending flowers, candy and chocolate. 

The young Gryffindor fished his gift for the tall Slytherin out of his bag. 

“I got you something too.” He said shyly while digging. “It's not near as nice as what you got me but...” He blushed as he handed over the gift.

Severus opened the box and found that there was a pair of white, cotton gloves nestled in tissue paper. They were very plain and he could see Harry biting his lip out of the corner of his eye. 

“A strange gift.” He thought to himself lifting them out of the box.

“Put them on.” Harry said, in an oddly anxious voice.

Severus put them on and began to say thank you when Harry waved him toward the box and said. “Open the tissue, go ahead.”

When Severus opened the tissue he found within a piece of oilcloth, bound with hemp string. The knot was tied in a curious fashion.

“Sorry about the knot. It was really hard to tie wearing gloves that would fit you.” Harry explained sheepishly.

It dawned on Severus. The gloves, oilcloth and hemp strings were protecting something delicate in the package. He worked the strings loose to reveal a small, ancient tome. It was hand bound in a carved leather cover that was so old it was flaking away. He opened the cover gently and read the inscription.

__

The Serpent's Simples and Draughts by Salazar Slytherin. 

When he went to turn the page Harry produced a pair of long wooden tweezers that he slipped between the thick, textured pages to reveal the first recipe. It was written by hand. This was Salazar's own book! The potions master closed the book and wrapped it again in its protective cocoon. When he went to tuck the tissue back around the book he noticed that there were four vials in the box as well. He took them out and examined them.

“Some of the potions in the book call for Basilisk ingredients, so I got you some.” Harry said easily.

Snape's eyebrows rose. He picked up the biggest vial. It looked to be scales. “Where did you get these?” He asked.

Black wings shifted. “From the Chamber of Secrets.” 

“It's true then. You were down there.” The potions master mused. “You went down again to get this!” He wasn't sure whether he should be tickled by Harry's caring or angry at his lack of caution.

“There's nothing down there but a dead snake and a bunch of carvings.” Harry said defensively.

“Hum.” Snape grunted. 

“What is this?” He held up a medium sized bottle with brown dust in it.

“Dehydrated basilisk blood.” Harry pointed to the other medium sized bottle, which held yellow powder. “This is dehydrated venom.” I scraped a little from the center of the venom sac to make sure it was pure.” He pointed down to the oilcloth wrapped package. “He talks about using the blood and venom fresh, but you could re-hydrate it with saline...uh tears...and it should do the same thing.” Harry hazarded.

Severus smiled at Harry. “Very clever. I am well aware of saline and it should do the trick. What is this powder in this tiny bottle?” He asked.

“Powdered fang.” The young man blushed a deep crimson. “Most of the recipes that call for it only call for a tiny bit and it was really hard to grind. I've done it every spare minute for the last few weeks.” He looked at his feet.

“You were powdering the fang with your mortar and pestle?” Snape asked. His little love had worked hard on his gift. Harry nodded. 

“I have a special tool for powdering fang, horn and bone.” Snape told him gently.

“Oh, well in that case you can have the rest of the fang!” Harry dug in his bag once more and handed the man the fang. 

Severus held the fang in his palm. “Did this really break off in your arm?” He asked amazed. It was a rather large tooth, and in his experience, a rather delicate arm. 

Harry grinned and nodded. “He got one last bite!” He giggled. 

Snape closed his hand around the fang reverently and then leaned over and kissed the young man before him.

The second their lips touched Ron and Hermione appeared. 

“How did he like the book Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked at Severus for the answer. 

“In the immortal words of Mr. Weasley, 'it's wicked.'” Snape said.

Ron grinned.

“Harry, come on, we're going to be late for charms.” She said.

“Yes.” Harry said hitching his bag up on his shoulder and touching his necklace through his shirt. “Sir, I'll see you tonight in the headmaster's office?” He asked.

“I'll be there.” Severus replied.

*********************************

That evening the three students met the two professors to view another Riddle memory. This memory showed them a cave. It was a cave where young Tom had worked his special brand of terror on some of his fellow orphans. This was a good hiding place for a horcrux, they decided.

Harry went to get his invisibility cloak and his broom. Dumbledore produced brooms for each of the rest of the party. 

“We'll fly out of the wards and then apparate from there. I can side-along you Miss Granger, and you Ronald will go with Harry and Professor Snape. Severus, be careful. You know that in a side along there is slop over energy from the witch or wizard you are towing?”

“Naturally I do headmaster.” Severus stated blandly. 

“Well Harry slops a lot of energy.” The old man said simply. “Gave me a bit of a jolt to tell the truth.” 

“Thank you for the warning Albus.”

“So Headmaster,” Hermione began, “If we find a horcrux tonight then we'll get the pensieve tomorrow?” 

“Oh, no my dear. I don't expect the replica to be ready until next week. We can't be too careful.” He told her.

“We don't want to show our hand.” Ron said. He'd said the same thing often to the bright witch. She was brilliant at deduction and reason, but once she got an answer she wanted to act on it right away. It was a gentle reminder that half of a good plan is the right timing. 

“Besides,” Snape reminded her “Harry wanted some time with the live horcrux to see if he can manipulate it.”

“Right.” She said. “So we don't get the pensive until the very last moment.” She confirmed.

The potions master nodded tightly. He was anxious. Time was running out. They really needed this to be a horcrux. Draco was making progress on his project. Despite the fact that two ploys for killing his unknown target had been thwarted, the boy was spending less time sulking in Myrtle's bathroom and more time working in the room of requirement. They had managed to stall him out by planning events in the room that denied him entrance. He was frustrated, but his desperation had gone away. Snape was certain he'd found a way to do one of his tasks at least.

The Dark Lord was also aware that Harry and Snape had been spending time together and some loose lips in Gryffindor tower had revealed that he'd accepted gifts from the potions master. The pressure from the death eaters for Severus to gain control of the boy emotionally was mounting. For the ruse to work it had to seem like the Dark Lord's idea for the spy to bring the boy to him. The timing had to be perfection.

The impromptu team set out together on their broomsticks flying from the astronomy tower to Hogsmead where they apparated to the coast. Severus did indeed get a large burst of energy from Harry, but as they were bonded in courtship it strengthened him rather than making him feel drained.

They made their way down the rocky shore to the cave entrance they had seen in the memory. Harry saw through the notice me not charms immediately and led them to the entrance. There they completed a short blood ritual to open the cavern beyond. 

It was a cave where the sea had come in and made something of an underground lake. At this point the cautious Slytherin suggested that he apparate back for the brooms. He retreated to the entrance of the cave and did so. They agreed to ride the boat across carrying the brooms. 

“Professor?” Harry said nervously before they set out, his wings and his nose were twitching. “There's something in the water.” 

“What is it my boy?” Dumbledore asked.

“It smells like life and death cooked together in a saltwater stew.” He whispered. He hated telling people things he knew they couldn't smell. 

Ron vaguely wondered if Harry would ever be able to speak plainly, out loud, about the mystical things he sensed.

Both of the professors were stewing over the description he'd given. 

Hermione almost immediately said, “Inferi.” 

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. 

“Very good Miss Granger.” Said Snape in his lecture voice. “And Mr. Weasley can you tell me what we do when faced with Inferi?” 

Harry watched Hermione's hand jerk and then come to rest on her hip. He giggled to himself. She'd almost raised her hand.

Ron was looking at the ground and biting his lip. “Is it fire sir?” He asked uncertainly.

“Excellent. Wands ready all.” He held his up for them to see. 

They put the broomsticks in the boat and began the silent ride across the black water. The boat took them to an island in the center of the underground pool. 

Snape had been at the head of the boat. When it touched shore he turned asked his students, “Fire spells ready?”

“Yes professor.” All three replied tightly.

Sensing that they were too tense to react quickly he quirked an eyebrow at Albus. “Ready Headmaster?” He asked in a condescending tone.

“No need Severus.” Albus quipped. “They're from Gryffindor. Surely they won't all panic.” 

Snape sighed melodramatically and then in a very put upon manner got out of the boat gingerly, wary of arousing the wrath of the watchdogs the dark lord had set.

Soon they were standing in a loose circle in front of a basin, there on the island. Within the basin was a potion. On its side stood a goblet. 

“Apparently someone is meant to drink the potion to get the locket out.” Dumbledore mused.

“I don't think that's a good idea sir.” Harry said.

“I concur.” Snape agreed.

He made several passes with his hand over the basin to draw the smell of the potion to him. 

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley will watch the water for a reaction. Headmaster if you could watch the ceiling. Miss Granger you watch me.” Both boys were ready with fire spells. They glued their eyes to the glassy lake.

Snape pulled a hair from his head and allowed it to dip into the potion. The potion ate the hair. Hermione snapped a twig from her broom and gave him that to try. It also dissolved. A few other items were sacrificed like a thread from his robes and a stone from her pocket. The two were pondering the thing when she undid her ever-present backpack and withdrew her purse. 

“Here sir. Cut off a piece of the strap.” She held it on the edge of the basin and he used a slashing hex to cut it.“ They dipped it in and it only melted ever so slightly.

He tipped his head to the side Potter style and she told him, “It's dragon hide.”

Once this had been revealed Snape proposed riding one of the brooms back to the cave entrance and fetching some dragon hide gloves, much as he'd done the broomsticks.

They agreed. It was not as though the basin was going anywhere, and as far as they knew no one was aware of their location to disturb them. When he rose slightly on the broom the water remained still, but when he climbed high enough to fly comfortably the water bubbled and a number of the sickening dead creatures stood up from the depths. They seemed almost unaware of the people standing on the island. All of their attention was bent on the elevated figure of professor Snape. They reached toward him. The stench of them had the group gagging. 

Immediately the island was ringed in fire. Three distinct rings of flame danced around the group and pushed out toward the Inferi forcing them back to the water. Most of them went back under the surface of the lake seemingly falling into a deep sleep. Others appeared to brave the flames by reaching up toward Snape. 

Severus was lowering the broom back to the ground, but he didn't have the forward space he needed to dive rapidly and so his descent was not quick. One inferius leapt at him grasping the corner of his robes. This pulled him more rapidly toward the ground, but it also drove the arm of the creature into the flames of the highest and most outward lying circle of fire. The creature shrieked. It loosed its grasp and the man settled to the ground. 

The inferius sensing that the flying threat had gone joined its fellows beneath the surface of the lake once more.

Snape put out the fire that had begun on the corner of his robe and calmed himself, now that he was safe once more within the three rings of protective fire that had driven the creatures back into the water. 

Ron and Hermione let their fire spells drop but Harry's remained up. 

“You can drop it now.” Hermione told him.

“I did.” He said sheepishly. “I put too much power into it. It will just take a minute.” 

He hugged Severus, seemingly checking him out to be sure he was unharmed. His wings wrapped around the potions master momentarily as though to shield him from further harm. 

They broke apart and once the fires were out Snape put his broom into the boat and rode the vessel toward shore. 

Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore sat on some handkerchiefs that had been transfigured into cushions. Harry stood and watched the potions master even once he was out of site. His face was ashen. 

“Are you drained my boy?” The headmaster asked. He wondered just how much of his power Harry had poured into the fire shield.

“No sir. Those Inferi scared me. I thought they'd got my Severus.” His eyes were wide as he whispered.

Hermione pulled him down on the cushion with her and snuggled him between she and Ron. “He'll be back soon you'll see.” She told him.

While the potions master was fetching the dragon hide gloves Ron, Harry and Hermione hashed out a tactic for getting whatever was in the bottom of the basin. At first Ron suggested several tactics that the headmaster waved away, but at long last they came up with something they all agreed with. They had finalized both their best tactic and their backup plan when they saw the little boat appear once more. 

Severus stepped onto the shore of the little island with a sigh of relief. To tell the truth it had been very difficult for him to set foot in the boat since he had seen the creatures below the surface in live action. 

He produced the gloves and listened to the plan. He agreed, but added one alteration. It was he who would support the little shefro while he searched for the _snitch_ in the potion.

The headmaster, Ron and Hermione faced the lake once more watching for action. They agreed that if the lake bubbled they would call for the fire spell and that would be the signal for Harry to cease and desist. Harry donned the gloves and Snape altered them to his size. Then he dipped one hand into the potion to search. Immediately he felt an object with the tips of his rather sensitive fingers, but he also heard the fire spell being called and pulled back his hand.

He'd been so quick that the water had subsided even before the creature's heads broke the surface. 

“Alright there Harry?” Asked Ron even as he scanned the water through the flame. 

“Yeah. A bit hot.” He nodded at his hand. 

Dumbledore cast a cleaning charm on the glove and Harry nodded his thanks.

“Well, on to plan B then.” Ron said. 

“With one more alteration. I want to get the chain first.” Harry said. “I bet I can hook it and get it hanging out before they rise.” 

“It's the locket then?” Asked Hermione. She was also still scanning the water. 

“Yeah.” Harry confirmed. His sensitive fingers had been able to feel the shape of the locket in the basin. “Is everyone okay?” He asked.

They all nodded.

“Right then...positions please.” He bade.

Once they were all ready he plunged his hand in and hooked the chain around the thumb of his glove, lifted his hand out and froze. 

This time the water bubbled once and stopped. Apparently the basin was keyed to someone touching the charm, but not the chain. He sighed but was careful not to move. He was very certain that sliding the locket along the bottom of the basin would also count as interfering with it.

“Professor Dumbledore, would you please cast another cleaning charm? The potion is getting to me.” Harry breathed.

If he had been frank, he would have said that it burned. It hadn't stopped burning since he'd put his hand in the first time but the cleaning charm helped last time.

Once the glove was cleaned Harry said. “I'm ready.”

Ron, Hermione and Professor Dumbledore straddled their broomsticks. Ron carried the extra broomsticks and Snape positioned the Nimbus for Harry and mounted behind him. He snuggled the young man back against him, one strong arm around his waist and one large hand grasping the broom in front of them both. 

The Headmaster nodded. “Miss Granger, ready?”

“Yes sir.” She said.

They lit two rings of fire around the island while Ron lit the fifth broom on alight and the three of them kicked off. The lake veritably frothed with bubbles as the locket cleared the potion and Harry cupped it in the other gloved hand. Snape kicked off hard and rocketed the two of them up toward the ceiling. Once they were up so far the Inferi couldn't reach them Dumbledore and Hermione followed. 

Two of the Inferi leapt and Ron used the torch-broom as a Quiddich bat to strike them back into the lake. Once the group was together again they flew as quickly as they could to the far shore. They got out of doors and sealed the entry once more. The Inferi continued to move restlessly below the surface of the Lake.

The group from Hogwarts landed on the far shore, well back from the surface of the water and Harry slumped back into the strong chest behind him. Snape dropped the broom and seated himself with the young man on his lap. Dumbledore cast a cleaning charm on the locket and the glove. He scooped the locket into a pouch and pocketed it.

Hermione pulled off the gloves and Ron cast _lumos_ so they could see Harry's hands clearly. They were both red and blistered. Snape pulled some salve from his pocket and spread it on the hands, and then he fed the boy some pain potion. The little shefro took advantage of the moment to cuddle up to the man he loved, but soon they were apparating away from the shore and back to Hogsmead. By the time they reached the school Harry's hands were healed and they were all tired but relieved that they'd recovered the locket.

The next morning before classes they met in the headmaster’s office and heard that the locket was not the one they had been looking for. It was a replacement put there by someone named R.A.B. 

“I think that might be Regulus Black” Harry said. 

“Harry,” Hermione asked, “Was there a locket among the dark objects we tried to remove from Grimmauld place?” She was almost certain there had been.

He thought for a moment. “There was.” He confirmed. “It was one of the things we kept finding Kreacher trying to keep.”

“Who is Kreacher?” Severus asked leaning far over in his chair. He was not in any way a morning person and was having nearly as much trouble as Ronald Weasley keeping up with this pre-breakfast meeting.

“He was a house elf at Order headquarters.” Hermione said hedging.

“He was Sirius house elf.” Harry said calmly.

Both of his friends looked mildly amazed to hear him speak of his departed godfather in a serene way. They had been avoiding the subject of Sirius Black for more than 7 months. The councilor on the other hand had not been avoiding the subject. 

Harry turned to Dumbledore. “Is he still here professor?”

“I don’t know Harry. Didn’t you set him to watching young Mr. Malfoy?” The old gentleman replied.

The young man sighed, there was nothing to do but call and see. He said “Kreacher.” In an authoritative tone and was soon faced with the nasty little elf.

“What does my, son of a mudblood, master wish?” He asked as he dropped into a mocking bow.

“When I say ‘go now’ you are to go directly and get the locket that Mrs. Weasley tried to throw away from Grimmauld Place and that you kept. I want you to bring it directly back here to me and don’t speak to anyone on the way there or back.” He said.

“Please.” Hermione added. Harry ignored her and Kreacher sneered at her. 

“Did I leave anything out Ron?” Harry asked. Ron was slumped in his chair sipping tea and staring into space. “Ron.” Harry said a little louder.

The youngest Weasley boy shook himself awake and crinkled his brow at Harry and then said, “No, I don’t think.”

Harry nodded and then he ordered “Kreacher, go now.” 

“What did you mean, ‘leave anything out’ Harry?” Asked Snape.

“Kreacher finds ways around orders, or ways to use my orders against me somehow. He hates me.” Harry said in a matter of fact way.

“Perhaps he just needs a more caring tack Harry, have you thought of that?” Hermione asked.

Dumbledore muffled a snicker in his beard.

“Hermione you go ahead and be nice to him if you want, but I won’t have him biting _me_.” Harry said bluntly.

“He was just nervous.” Hermione defended.

Harry held back a sigh while Ron snorted into his tea.

With a pop the ugly little beast was back in front of them. He had a grimace of satisfaction on his face and the locket dangling from his fist by the chain. He approached Harry at a somewhat alarming rate of speed. 

Ron yelled, “Harry!”

Harry said, “Stop,” Firmly to Kreacher.

He froze with the locket inches away from Harry’s bare arms.

“You missed telling him where to put the locket.” Ron said somewhat breathlessly.

“Yeah.” Harry confirmed wide-eyed. To him the piece of jewlery was glowing malevolently. 

Snape spread his pocket-handkerchief on the corner of the headmaster’s desk.

“Kreacher put the locket on my handkerchief on the headmaster’s desk and step back.” Severus said.

The house elf glared at him and didn’t move a muscle.

“Kreacher obey professor Snape now.” Harry ordered.

Glaring the elf did as he was told.

“Kreacher do not speak to anyone about the locket unless one of us tells you to. Go back to your spying duty.” Harry told him.

Again the mocking bow was executed. “Yes master I will gladly go back to watching the beautiful blond wizard. It is a joy to see a proper wizard.” He popped out of existence and they all breathed a little easier.

“So, is it a horcrux?” Hermione asked Harry.

He nodded to her while gazing at it.

“Is it cursed?” Ron asked Harry.

He nodded again, still transfixed.

“Will you be able to work with it my boy?” Dumbledore asked.

At this he pursed his lips and looked up at the headmaster.

“I am going to need time, and research. First to beat the curses and then to manipulate the piece of soul.” Harry replied.

“Not destroy it Mr. Potter?” Snape asked.

“I think not sir. That wouldn’t play to my strengths.” Harry said firmly but quietly.

“How long? I need to appear to be making headway with you for the Dark Lord and we need to hold off Malfoy…or have him arrested.” Snape said the last in the direction of the headmaster.

“Severus.” Warned Dumbledore.

“Four weeks. Maybe six. I think we need a potion to neutralize the curse. It looks like the same kind of curse the headmaster found in the ring.” He shook his head. “Like a flesh eating version. I think it matches the potion in the basin to be frank.” Harry was fairly sure he couldn’t pull out the coiled, ready to strike version of the spell the way he’d done once the spell had already struck and he didn’t want to unleash the curse upon someone in order to cleanse the locket.

The potions master closed his eyes. “Six weeks. We can deflect the pressure from Draco Malfoy to me by putting the focus more on the Dark Lord’s plan of having me sublimate you.”

“He really went for that?” Hermione asked.

“I think someone is feeding him information, possibly even without knowing it, that would make him feel that Harry is…delicate…emotionally.” Snape said. “He thinks I can seduce Harry and gain his trust and then crush and control him.” 

“Ah.” Hermione said. It seemed strange to her that anyone would consider manipulating a person to that degree.

“Where would he get that kind of information though?” Harry was ever worried that the Dark Lord had discovered Snape’s role as a spy and was merely leading him on.

“He knows, Harry.” Severus sighed. He was a little concerned about how his young love would take the idea that someone had spilled his secrets to the dark lord. “He has specific information.” The tall dark man said regretfully.

He rose and crossed the office, kneeling in front of his love. “He asked me to bring you to him by the end of the school year…” He took Harry’s hands and held them steadily. “He ordered me to bring you on a leash Harry. He knew about the collar and the dish.”

As the brilliant green eyes widened and then dropped to their hands, Snape’s heart dropped. One of Harry’s slender but strong hands slipped out of his and reached up to his cheek. Harry leaned across and whispered in his ear. “I would trust you to collar me Severus.” 

The young man’s use of Snape’s first name sent a shiver up his spine. Involuntarily he flared his nostrils and breathed deep. 

The young shefro pinked when he whispered, “I would like be your boy.” Harry bit his lip then. It was the dearest wish of his heart to belong to his potions master one hundred percent, but how to express that and be understood was his dilemma.

Snape pulled Harry against his shoulder and whispered back, “keep on with your counseling and find yourself, then you can think about giving yourself to me.” The last bit was almost like a whispered growl.

Harry hugged him back for a few brief seconds.

“How would he get specific information though?” Hermione mused.

“Yeah nobody knows the specifics but Hermione, the Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey, the councilor, you professor Snape and us Weasleys” He shook his head bewildered.

“You forgot the agents that rescued me.” Harry said. He did not seem overly upset, almost as though he had expected this to happen.

“Do you think it was them?” The headmaster asked doubtfully.

“No.” Harry said looking at Ron. He wouldn’t be the one to say it.

Ron sat up straighter. “Percy!” He said, and then he pressed his lips together.

Harry bit his lip. “Maybe not Ron.” 

Ron struggled for a moment to remain positive and then he flopped back in his chair. “Probably though, yeah?” He looked back and forth between his two friends.

“Do you have a particular reason for suspecting Percy Weasley?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yeah.” Harry and Ron said together.

“You have proof?” Snape asked.

“Yeah.” Ron said. Harry looked a little doubtful.

“It’s mostly circumstantial.” Hermione said digging in her satchel. “We actually meant to have you look at the evidence professor Snape. It seems that someone Percy knows is connected to the death eaters. He might be their dupe. I thought him to good to turn.”

“I thought him too ambitious to stay good.” Ron said.

“Ambition is not always a bad thing Ron.” Hermione said a little testily.

Harry held up both his hands. “We agreed to stop arguing about this. We all have good points, but we’re too close to the issue. We agreed to be cautious but to give Perce the benefit of the doubt, yeah?”

“Yeah.” They both agreed, Ron albeit little sulkily.

“Now that that is temporarily settled, it is time for you three to be off to the great hall for breakfast.” Dumbledore said.

The headmaster wrapped the locket up and put it safely away. They would work on it and research it carefully over the coming weeks.

The students picked up their packs and headed for the door. Hermione stepped onto the twirling stairs followed by Harry and then Ron. The two teachers could hear them as they rode the staircase to the bottom.

“So Hermione,” Ron said. “In your expert opinion on house elves, do you think Kreacher was trying to hurt Harry or do you reckon he was just nervous?” He asked saucily.

They heard a smack and then Harry said, “Ouch, Mio that was me!”

“Oh Harry, I’m so sorry.” She said earnestly.

“Don’t be,” He said. “I was going to ask the same thing.”

Ron giggled, Hermione harrumphed and the gargoyle slid firmly back into place.

 

So.....Do you forgive me?  
Sly


	37. Harry learns some things

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 37: In Which Harry learns some things.**   


The end of February and all of March saw Harry spending a lot of time in Dumbledore’s office. He studied the horcrux that Kreacher had brought him. To the others it appeared that he was trying to solve a riddle with no clues. To Hermione and Ron, who wanted to get on with things, it was frustrating. To Severus it was near maddening. He hated the idea of his little one messing with something dangerous that he could not even see, much less protect him from.

One afternoon nearly a week after they’d gotten the locket Harry was sitting and studying it on one side of the headmaster’s desk while Snape graded papers across from him. Hermione and Ron were in Hogsmead, but the little shefro had decided that he needed time to look at the piece of jewelry by himself. While the headmaster had not been against this, the Slytherin head of house’s natural caution was. Thus Harry was accompanied by Snape during his investigations. It took Harry awhile to block out Snape’s magical signature and focus on the horcrux. 

Eventually he managed it. It had required him going into a trance like state and slowing his own breathing. There was definitely a pulse to the thing. It was most assuredly alive. Much to his surprise Harry found that the life within the locket was not in and of itself evil. It also possessed no magic of its own. He realized that the magic must reside within the seat of consciousness. This gave him a little more to think about. 

How much space did Magic take up? Had Tom Riddle made more room for magic inside himself by evicting pieces of his soul? Goodness knows there are some expenditures of Magic that permanently damaged one’s magic and acts that damaged the soul. If Voldemort had only had his original magic in his body to use, he would have used it up by now. He had gained strength magically every time he lost a piece of his humanity. Perhaps the humanity had needed to be sacrificed for the magic to fit in?

The curse on the locket remained. The potion Harry intended to absorb it with was not yet finished. Like the Poly-juice potion it required time to cure before the final elements were added. Within the locket the piece of soul burned brightly. Harry tried to see if he could communicate with the piece. He found that he could not. Unlike the diary, this horcrux had not been left with any conscious thought at all. He wondered if it were possible to mentally nudge the piece of soul out of the locket. He concentrated harder and began to try.

Across from him the potions master took an occasional look at the young man he loved. He was not gazing at him. Merely checking every now and again that Harry was perfectly safe. They had been there several hours when Snape noticed a change in the fixed green eyes across from him. Harry had gone even further into his trance. He put his marking aside to monitor the boy.

Fifteen minutes later saw him standing behind Harry. He was constantly checking his vitals. There was sweat running down the shefro’s tanned face and his wings were trembling. All his feathers were standing on end. He was puffed up for battle. His heart rate varied from almost too slow to almost too fast. None of the vitals were dangerous, but neither were they healthy. 

Snape debated several minutes if he should touch his entranced student. He had just decided to reach out and give Harry’s narrow shoulder a gentle shake when the green eyes closed and a tousled black head drooped. 

Harry listed to the side and would have slid to the floor but for the strong hand that held him steady. He let his head fall backwards to look at the man behind him. He grinned a tired little grin.

“I can do it.” He announced in a happy but whispery voice. It felt like he hadn’t eaten for a long time. 

“What is it you can do my angel?” Severus asked. 

“I can move it around.” Harry answered waving a hand at the locket. The potions master understood that is was the piece of soul to which Harry had manipulated, not the locket.

The smaller man shook his head. Everything was kind of lopsided and his vision was slow to catch up with his eye and head movements.

“What’s the matter?” The older man asked, concerned.

“Very hungry and thirsty I think.” Harry answered.

“Well why don’t you call that mad house elf of yours and get him to bring you tea and sandwiches. I could do with a cup myself.” Snape said. 

The young Gryffindor’s face lit up as he remembered that he could do that here. He could ask for food and drink, and get it. 

“Kreacher.” He called.

With a snap the dreadful little elf appeared. “What can I do for you master Freak?” Kreacher asked. He had discovered that this insult stung his master and so he never failed to use it now. 

“Dismiss that thing.” Snape ordered angrily.

“Kreacher you are to go back and continue your previously assigned task.” Harry said quickly. He hadn’t seen what he’d done wrong, but awaited his punishment regardless.

“I’m not angry with you Harry. Next time you call him, order him to never call you that again.” Severus said flatly.

Harry looked at his hands. “I want him to be able to express himself. It’s bad enough he has to serve me unwillingly.” The whispery voice was back and Harry was hunched over on himself and wringing his hands.

Snape scooped Harry up and sat down with him the way they used to sit after (and sometimes during) therapy sessions. “Let him call you other names, but not that one. It causes regression.” 

“Regression?” He thought a bit and then straightened. “I guess it does take me back to my cupboard days a bit. I thought it might toughen me up.” He admitted.

“Don’t do that. You can’t toughen up. You’ll cause a block in the natural flow of emotional energy and block up your magic. All that you would accomplish is to cause yourself more pain down the road.” Snape said. He had the tone of one who is reminding another of a past conversation.

Harry sighed and then nodded.

“Now call your other mad house elf.” Snape said smirking.

He grinned as he said, “Dobby.”

They enjoyed a light lunch together. Dobby had brought sandwiches, tea and a pile of berries. Harry ate two sandwiches and drank his tea perched on Severus’ knee. He leaned back into the man’s shoulder contentedly. 

“Would you pass me a strawberry please?” He asked.

Snape picked up a luscious ripe berry, but instead of handing it to the young man he pressed it to his lips. Harry had no memory of ever being fed by anyone and the idea of being taken care of to that degree was breathtaking to him. He nibbled the end of the strawberry and then his tongue shot out to lick. He opened his mouth further and Snape slid the berry in. 

Next was a raspberry. When it brushed gently against his lips his eyes opened wide and his mouth opened in a relaxed little oh shape to allow the berry to pass his moist lips. More fruit followed. Every one was taken in to Harry’s mouth sweetly. Snape could barely take his eyes off Harry’s lips. He wanted so badly to lick those lips and taste the fruit that had been there. 

It was time for another strawberry and Harry once again nibbled and then licked but this time he sucked on the strawberry for a moment before taking another nibble. Severus watched, rapt, as the berry was sensuously devoured bit by bit. Soon there was only the tiniest piece of berry left in his hand but before he could make the move to pop it into Harry’s warm wet mouth, he felt his thumb and finger laved by a soft tongue. His eyes drifted closed. He felt velvet lips press against the tips, and then gentle suction. The tongue slowly rubbed against the bottom while they were sucked deeper. When he felt it pass between thumb and forefinger he moaned pulled his hand away and replaced it with his lips. 

This was not a gentle meeting of lips. The moment their mouths met they were open. Each one was delving as deeply as possible with their tongues. They licked and sucked one another’s lips. When the kiss broke Harry was trembling with need. Desire racked his delicate frame. He took hold of the lapels of Severus robes and used them to lever himself around so that he was straddling the long legs. He pressed himself fully against Snape and dove in to claim his mouth once more. 

Two pairs of hands tangled in black hair as each one tried to pull the other closer. Harry’s penis was throbbing beneath his robes and as he shifted closer he could feel the long hard evidence of Severus’ answering arousal. Unconsciously he rubbed himself against the older man while the kiss became more frantic.

Snape’s eyes snapped open and he pulled back.

“Hush my love. Hush.” His hands slid down to still Harry’s hips.

Harry groaned. “Please. Oh god, Please.”

Severus breathing was ragged. “This is why we are not supposed to be alone together.” He managed to get out.

“I know.” Harry understood, but his body didn’t. He slumped against the broad chest in front of him.

Severus stroked his cheek. “My poor little one.” He said lightly. If he could get Harry to laugh he knew it would be okay.

“Its so frustrating!” Harry said. “I want…” he trailed off.

“What do you want?” It slipped out before Snape realized he might not want to know. It would be like sweet torture!

Harry pulled back and looked Snape in the eye. “I want you. I want to taste you, to suck you and touch you. I want to try to make you feel what I feel when I look at you, think of you.” 

Severus eyes widened. Harry truly wanted sexual touching? Sexual things? His counseling must be going very well indeed.

Harry looked at those widened black eyes. He tipped his head. “Do you think I’m…dirty, I’m used?” He asked seriously. His eyes were dry but very earnest.

Snape smirked. “I would very much like for you to be dirty for me, to talk dirty for me.” His voice had gone sultry.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah?” He asked as desire flared in him.

“Yes. And as for you being used, I know I would certainly like to use you.” Severus leered.

Harry groaned again and pressed himself to Snape once more. “Oh how I want to be used by you. I want you on me and in me.” He whispered throatily. “I want to be stretched and filled and fucked by your cock.” Here he thrust himself against the front of Snape to illustrate what exactly he was talking about. “I want you in my mouth and my slit and up my ass. I want you hard and fast and I wish I could have you now.” 

Severus reveled for a brief moment in the sensation of Harry’s lithe body pressed against his own. “When the time is ours you will have these things. We will have them together. But if we are to stay together at all we must wait.” He tightened his grip on Harry to prevent him grinding and waited for his breathing to even out. Soon Snape’s hands found the narrow hips once more and pushed the little man out so they were eye to eye. 

He took hold of Harry’s head and brought him down to kiss his brow. “I love you.” Snape said. Then he kissed the little nose. “I want you too.” He kissed the left cheek. “Badly” He kissed the right cheek. “But I can’t have you yet.” He kissed the right eyelid “Because you are too young.” He kissed the left eyelid. “So.” He said as his hands slid down to Harry’s shoulders and he brushed their lips together once. “Go and sit in your own chair before I pass out from my blood all being pooled in my groin!” 

Harry complied amidst copious giggles.

*************************************

By the end of March the team had managed to counteract the curse on the locket. Severus had handled the potion. Hermione had researched it out with him and assisted him throughout. The potions master had been pleased to find her an apt assistant as well as an intelligent companion. Unlike most young ladies her age she didn’t feel a need to prattle on endlessly and for this he was thankful.

Ron and Harry had researched everything they could find on the seat of consciousness and the place of magic in the makeup of a wizard. Much of the work was theoretical, but with Professor Dumbledore to guide them and Harry able to actually see the magic forming in different tests they were able to determine that the pieces of soul that had been removed from Tom Riddle, had left space for the magic that he soaked up and used to make himself into Lord Voldemort. 

Harry was happy with his ability to coax the piece of soul back and forth between objects. He could take it from the locket and put it into the ring and back again. He began to try to do this from further away but failed once he passed the distance of five feet.

“I can’t do it from here.” Harry groused. 

“Are you just not strong enough or what?” Ron Queried.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

Harry sighed and lowered his voice. “The piece of spirit is fluid. It flows from place to place and I just sort of prod it with my magic. But from back here it is like trying to push a puddle of water with a pin.”

“What is it like from closer?” the headmaster asked. 

Harry took a step forward. “From here it is more like trying to push syrup with a Popsicle stick.” One more step. “From here like pushing jelly with a spoon.” He stepped right up to the desk. “From here it is like pushing silly putty with a spatula.” 

“So the closer the easier, yeah?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

“Well then Snape is just going to have to get you close.” Ron concluded.

“Professor Snape, Mister Weasley.” Dumbledore corrected.

“Sorry sir.” The redhead said automatically, but without rancor.

“You boys had better go and get ready for dinner.” Dumbledore said. “You can do more after.” He added when Harry looked about to protest.

“Will Professor Snape be here?” Harry asked. They hadn’t been along since what Harry called in his head the _February snogging session._

Dumbledore smiled. “Yes, but I will be here too.” He winked.

Harry gave one of the portraits a dirty look and followed Ron out the door.

“You might as well forgive that portrait Harry.” Ron said.

“Yeah, I know but...” Harry sighed. “I can’t believe he was reprimanded because she told on us. We didn’t really do anything.” 

“Harry this is serious.” Ron said. He became the stern older brother for once. He took hold of Harry’s sleeve.

“Oh come on Ron. You and Hermione do all kinds of fooling around. She talks. I know!” He nearly shouted. He was so jealous that his friends were free to experiment and even have intercourse and he was not.

“Yeah, but Harry neither of us can go to Azkaban for it.” Ron’s eyes bored into Harry’s.

“What? You’re kidding, right?” Harry asked aghast.

“No mate, I’m not. I thought you knew. Look…” Ron pulled his slight friend over against the wall where they had at least the illusion of privacy. “The line between adult and child is very well defined in our world. There is no gray area. You are a child for…” He began to count.

Harry interrupted him, “ four months and six days.” He said.

Ron looked shocked for a moment at Harry’s accuracy. The he chuckled. “You _are_ eager.” He shook his head and then carried on. “He is firmly an adult. If he were to allow anything overtly sexual to happen between you he could and likely would be charged with a sex crime.” 

Harry turned white and began to slide down the wall. He’d had no clue what a chance he had been taking with his darling man. 

Ron got hold of both shoulders of his friend’s robes to keep him from slipping to the floor. “Relax mate, he’d never had let it go so far. You know that. The man is a rock.” He said in admiration. The redhead knew that he would never have been able to say no were Hermione snuggled up in his lap kissing him. 

The younger Gryffindor straightened up, shook himself all over and then nodded. “You’re right, now I feel like I’ve been selfish.” He smiled sheepishly.

Ron put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I doubt that anyone but you could possibly see it that way mate.” 

They continued down the hall to where dinner awaited them.

 

Note: I am sorry it is a short chapter. They will likely all be short from here on out, otherwise it will be forever between posts. Thank you for sticking with me though all my long delays.


	38. Death Eaters Chat

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 38: In Which Death Eaters Chat**   


By the time April began, their nervous flutters had given way to quiet determination. Severus had told the dark lord and his minions that he had nearly conquered Harry’s mind by manipulating his damaged emotions. He told them that the boy was so smitten that he would even give his most treasured possession to Snape if asked. The potions master bragged that is was a goblet that had been owned by Hufflepuff herself. When Riddle had heard about this cup he had asked the potions master to see it, when it was gifted. His loyal servant had of course agreed. They had talked about the cup as a trophy that Severus should win for his dark master.

Harry had not had any trouble pretending to be taken with the potions master. All that had been needful was to gradually reveal how he really felt. Voldemort’s spies at the school had done the rest of the work for them. He now spent his meals gazing at the head table, as he had wanted to do right from the fall of the year.

Hermione had been pleased that the potion she and Professor Snape had worked on had rid the locket of it’s evil curse, with no injury to anyone. 

Ron felt confident that his plan to get Harry close to the dark lord would work. 

Dumbledore had managed to hunt down the cup of Hufflepuff that Tom Riddle had once coveted, but been unable to procure. The current owner had been unwilling to part with it until she heard that the actual buyer was Harry Potter. At that point the sweet old lady gave it as a gift, under the one condition that she be able to present it to him herself.

Back at Hogwarts Harry had prodded the pieces of soul from first the locket and then the pensieve into the much-coveted cup. It had been very challenging for the young Shefro to get both pieces of soul into the cup. He’d needed to heal them together in order to do it. 

He had been able to see from the start that they could be healed. It was not unlike healing a cut, but first he’d had to master that talent before he could go on to heal the unseen spirit. Even after practicing by repeatedly cutting himself and healing it he still was afraid he couldn’t do it. The headmaster had been the one to sit through the little Shefro practicing that. Ron had looked faint at the mention of it and Snape had absolutely refused to allow it. He had wanted his little lion to heal cuts on him instead. The powerful, but gentle Gryffindor could no more see Severus cut than he could allow him to go to prison. Dumbledore had watched in amazement. How quickly Harry caught on to the healing spells.

Later the five of them had come together to watch him heal the pieces of spirit and pour them into the cup to be stored like the souls the voodoo women in Haiti captured. Of course they could not see what he was doing, but they could feel the magic flowing through the air and see the sweat that beaded on his brow. When he was finished his small frame had been racked with fatigue and his wings had been trembling with the tension. He’d been rewarded by Snape with a lovely cuddle, while his friends drank tea with the headmaster; feet away, but studiously ignoring them.

Since they were done with the pensieve itself, it had been put back into the study Snape had taken it from. Its absence had never been detected by the family that cherished it. No matter how you looked at it the tall dark Slytherin had been involved in every stage of their plan and had aided them where no other could have.

Soon it was time. Severus merely needed to plant the bug in his master’s ear and then wait for the man to order him to bring the boy in. 

It was a Friday evening when Snape was next summoned. He felt the slow burn of the dark mark that he sported on his arm. The flesh where the tattoo was located tightened and began to heat up. He quickly entered his rooms and opening a portrait, withdrew a bag he kept there, always at the ready. He rode the floo network to his dingy home in Spinner’s End. By the time he left the front door heading to the apparition point the mark was scalding hot. He apparated blindly allowing the mark to pull him and immediately took three paces forward. He dropped to one knee and paid suit to his evil master. The mark calmed and pained him no more. When he heard another apparate in behind him he stood and found his place in the circle.

Voldemort paced inside the circle as was his wont. He was currently hearing a flowery report from Lucius Malfoy. His was the financial report. It normally started before the others were summoned and finished a little while after the last of them arrived. Tonight it was Bellatrix Lastrange who was last. Severus thought this odd, because she was normally not so far from her master as that. 

“So my dear Lucius what you are telling me is that you are still capably handling the money and making me more powerful financially to match my magical strength.” Riddle said as he looked around himself to see his inner circle closed.

“Yes my Lord.” Said Malfoy.

With his eyes still shifting around himself the dark lord nodded. 

“Severus. I am hearing that you are getting closer to your little catamite.” Voldemort sniggered darkly. 

Allowing himself to drop completely into his role Snape coaxed the sound of perverse pleasure to enter his voice. “I find that corrupting Dumbledore’s golden boy is more pleasurable than I imagined. His mind is now malleable my lord.” He said proudly.

A smile crept onto the snake like visage. The faces around the circle behind their masks showed different emotions. Some were jealous of Severus’ current ability to make their lord smile. Others doubted he could really do as he had said. After all who would choose Snape for a seduction? One went so far as to even make scoffing noises.

“I do believe someone does not believe you up to the task Severus.” Riddle said snidely. 

“He is _nearly_ ready to be brought to you my lord.” Snape said defensively. Weasley’s plans had specified that the Dark Lord should ask him, or better yet order him, to bring the boy in. It would be preferable, and less suspicious if Snape seemed unsure the boy was ready to be turned all the way. If he seemed to eager the man might smell a trap. 

“Really Snape,” Malfoy interjected, “Will he ever be ready?” 

Bellatrix laughed. “I don’t believe he’d fall for you.” She sneered.

“Silence.” Hissed Voldemort. He turned back to the potion master. “It is true Severus. Not a single child that has passed through your classroom has ever developed a crush on you before, how could they.” He raked his eyes down the man’s frame.

“It is true my lord,” Snape sighed. “Had his emotional state not been delicate and had I not access to his mind, I likely would not have stood much chance.” This statement held an air of truth to it. Snape realized that he was very lucky to be gifted with such a mate as Harry. He knew that his love was beautiful where he was not. He reminded his insecurity that the little Shefro didn’t care that much for beauty. That Harry liked him strong and cuttingly intelligent. To quote Fleur, Harry was pretty enough for both of them.

Bellatrix snorted again. “Not much…try none at all.” She murmured to Malfoy on her right. 

He snorted as well. Imagine Snape trying to woo someone with his intellect and dark eyes. They would never see past his nose! Lucius barely contained his amusement.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. It was true. How could a man possessing neither good looks nor a congenial disposition hope to seduce a young man like Potter? Was he being deceived like a fool? His paranoid nature played directly into Severus hands.

“You have one week Severus.” Voldemort said. 

“To bring you the cup?” Severus asked trying to let the insecurity flow through his voice now. It wasn’t hard. He was a marvelous actor.

“To bring the boy, to me to give _me_ the cup.” He sneered. “Do not fail. Go back to school.” 

The mad laughter of Bellatrix played staccato over the legato strains of Lucius Malfoy’s baritone chuckle.

This was how, a week later, Harry was in the headmaster’s office being hugged good-bye by Hermione and patted on the back by Ron. He was dressed in his school robes; altered to fit his wings, with a light poncho overtop to ward off the evening chill. The last detail of his outfit sat on the desk. It was the collar his uncle had placed on him when he had returned to Privet Drive last summer. Severus stepped nervously into the room with a lead for the collar held loosely in his hand. Crushed in Harry’s hand was the note he had received at supper; a notice that he was to come to the headmaster’s office to discuss his potions grade. The entire hall had seen the note given to him. Most of them wondered why the headmaster didn’t seem notice that the potions master was using his position to be alone with a student. 

Once Hermione let him go Harry picked up the collar. His hand shook slightly.

“Is there something, anything, that I can do to make this less…” Snape trailed off not knowing how to express his desire to lessen Harry’s suffering.

“Make it good.” The little shefro said thoughtfully. “Make it romantic, or sensual or something.” He added very quietly after biting his lip.

Snape nodded. He took the collar from Harry and drew him toward the door. They walked side by side toward the dungeon and once they were out of sight of the office they veered out the front doors toward the gates. Little was said until they reached the point from which Hogwarts would allow apparition. 

At this point Snape stopped them and drew his little lion into an embrace. He ran his fingers through the feathers the beautiful wings at the boy’s back; soothing and calming the beautiful creature.

“My little one. I would have you free forever. To meet the dark lord you will need to wear this collar.” He kissed the top of the tousled head. “This collar no longer represents the ownership of another. It represents your trust in me, and your strength of emotion and your giving character. Putting this on will be the bravest thing I have ever seen anyone do.” 

“For tonight will you be my boy?” Snape asked.

“I would be your boy forever.” Harry said looking into Snape’s beautiful dark eyes. “I so want to be yours.” He added huskily.

“It is my heart that is enslaved to you little one.” Severus whispered.

Harry bowed his head and allowed the collar to be fastened. Surprisingly it didn’t feel bad. He knew that the collar was like a costume; ready to be taken off when the job was done. Even when the lead was attached he didn’t feel tense. He merely felt ready.

Snape apparated them both as soon as he felt the skin around the dark mark start to tense. As usual he knelt before Voldemort as soon as the ground was solid below his feet. With the leash in his fist he brought Harry down with them. The boy knelt beside him trembling slightly after being pulled off balance. 

Snape stayed kneeling and so did the young Shefro. From here on out they were playing it by ear, waiting for the moment that the dark lord would want Harry to _present_ him with the cup. The younger man really wanted to look around, but the professor had instructed him very carefully to keep his eyes down until he was led to stand. 

He could hear the sharp click of boots ring on the floor as someone paced around them. When they came back to the front Harry could just spy the tips of black, shiny, dragon hide boots. 

“Well, well my lord. Look at this.” Malfoy drawled from atop those perfectly polished boots. “It looks as though he did manage to collar the brat after all.” He sounded amused, but much to Harry’s dismay, he also sounded very doubtful.

“You see Lucius. I told you that our Severus was loyal.” Voldemort hissed. “He would never have dared to tell me he was making progress when he wasn’t.” Both of the men on the floor could hear the barely veiled reprimand in the last comment. “Rise Severus.” 

The tall Slytherin stood but motioned to his young charge to stay kneeling. 

Voldemort began to approach the pair, but the voice of Bellatrix stopped him. “Well he succeeded, or he’s turned completely and has brought us an assassin.” She spat.

Voldemort halted his approach. Caution was the better part of Slytherinism. 

“What do you propose?” He hissed at Bellatrix. 

“A test.” She said maliciously. 

“Go on.” Riddle relished the sound of cruel pleasure that had crept into her voice. 

“If he has seduced the little slut’s mind, he should show us by using his body.” She purred.

Voldemort smirked. He knew this would be a test of both the boy’s submissiveness and Severus loyalty. Snape was a very private man. He would not enjoy this at all, but if he were loyal he would do it.

“Master please, I protest.” Snape said firmly. He wondered that Harry didn’t shift or shiver next to him. He merely remained passive.

“She’s right Severus. I think you should prove your claim by laying him out on that table, spreading his legs and fucking him.” Voldemort sniggered. He loved the tension he could see in his proud servant and did he detect a trace of fear in the boy? No, the boy seemingly trusted Snape. Perhaps he really was under control.

“But my lord, I cannot.” Snape replied calmly.

“Because you haven’t tamed him?” Bella accused.

“No.” He replied to the LeStrange woman. “Because I am a Hogwarts teacher and he is a student. I am under compulsion to remain honorable toward him.” He casually pointed backwards.

“Then how did you break him?” Voldemort asked.

Snape shrugged. “It was for his own good, really.” He lied. “The brat has been made unstable by abuse. I saved him from his own misery.” This last part was actually true. Without Severus, Harry would have still been floundering in the abyss of his pain.

Voldemort looked to Lucius. “It is true.” Malfoy confirmed. “Since the Umbridge woman, the teachers must sign a magical contract that prevents abuse.” He nodded. “Nothing short of a compulsion spell could make Snape fuck that boy, even for you my Lord.” He admitted reluctantly. Lying to the dark lord was something the dapper blond man would never be brave enough to do.

“Ah. Good then. Let us see how submissive your ‘mind pet’ is Snape.” Voldemort grinned. “Imperio” He pointed his wand at the potions master and hit him hard with the spell. “Take your little toy over to that table and fuck him now!” He commanded. A smile lit his snake like visage with perverse pleasure. This was power. It was like he was raping two people!

Snape clenched his jaw and fought momentarily, but he found he was no Harry Potter. He could not throw off the curse. He realized that even if he could, it would do no good. Harry was still too far away from the dark lord to do what he needed to. “Go imp, on the table.” He said to Harry, his voice was a mixture of the commanding tone he wanted it to be and the shakiness he felt.

The little Shefro’s mind whirred. Part of him was nervous about the audience they would have, the other part of him was thrilled that Snape would finally be between his legs. His creature side was nearly desperate to have the potions master inside him; it was also pleased by the idea that they would have witnesses. It would be like an old fashioned consummation; the kind that royalty had, where their union was witnessed. He was glad now that he’d never used a dildo on himself. Now Severus would both see and feel that he was a virgin. The boy gave over to his creature’s desire. He calmly walked over to the table on the end of Snape’s leash and sat up on it. 

Severus was floored. The boy was straining at the leash like a whippet. He watched as Harry raised himself to the table, spread his legs slightly and pulled him nearer, down into a kiss.

“Sir, they want you to do this. I need you to do this.” Harry whispered right before their lips met. “Imagine that I am your courtesan and you are claiming me before the courts, anything to make it alright.” 

The older mans hands shook as he ran them through the messy black locks. He tasted the sweet mouth below him and moaned in pleasure. He came face to face with the dark part of his psyche that was glad for the dark lord’s curse; freeing him from his sex-free compulsion. He was crushed by the knowledge that it was there. Still, Harry’s mouth was sweet and soft below him. He felt his arms tighten around the boy. 

The shefro began to give himself over to the feeling of completeness. He was jarred back to reality by the hissed words, “It seems my dear Lucius that you were wrong. Severus does have the boy in hand.” 

Harry cast a circle of silence that would exclude the voices of their enemies but allow them to be heard. “They will still hear us.” He whispered. Now he could lose himself in the man before him and fulfill his inner being’s dearest wish, whilst gaining the Dark Lord’s trust. “Now you can imagine us alone.” He hoped this would clear up Snape’s problem. Surely the man wanted him, if the state of his trousers was any indication.

Their bodies molded to one another’s as their lips and tongues met once more.   
When they broke the kiss Snape said, “Pants Potter.” He winked to soften the command. 

Harry leaned back on the table and undid his trousers through the loose buttons of his school robes. He toed off one shoe and slid the pants and underpants down to hang off the other foot. The air hit his legs as Snape raised the school robes to pool around the slender waist and stepped between the knobby knees. The caress of the cool air combined with the heat of the man between his thighs to make Harry quiver. He could feel himself getting wet from the stimulation. He penis was hard and his vagina was slick. He badly wanted this and he knew it. In his dreams he’d been having it for months.

The robes of the potions master hid the fact that Harry had more than the normal male equipment between his legs from the others but Severus himself could see Harry’s penis rigid with arousal. He lost all control at that moment and gave in to enjoying the beautiful boy before him.

He stroked the small cock and relished the moan that broke through the young lips. The younger man’s balls were drawn up tight from the cold in the room. He gripped Harry’s aroused penis more firmly with one hand and stroked down the sac with the other. Potter shivered beneath him. At the base of the balls, where his other lovers had had their perineum, Snape found on his little lion a soft fold of flesh. He stroked this and the young legs tightened against his thighs clamping him between them while Harry let out a soft keening sound.

“Hmm, you like that.” Severus stated. His fingers slid lower and found the velvet slit slick with moisture. He slid two fingers inside that tight heat. 

The young body below him that had been so rigidly holding him in place relaxed and Harry’s legs spread wide for him while he flopped backwards as though boneless. “Oh yes please sir!” Harry moaned out.

Snape felt the imperius command hold him more firmly. His dark master must have renewed the curse out of impatience. He found himself opening his robes and trousers and drawing his hard cock forth. He frigged Harry with one hand while stroking himself with his other for a moment. When Harry’s heels dug into the potion master’s buttocks trying to pull him in, he withdrew his fingers and placed the head of his penis at the slick entry. 

Though he badly wanted to, he didn’t thrust inside right away. First rubbed the head of his cock up and down from the base of Harry’s balls, where he assumed the boy’s female pleasure center to be, to his anus, only marginally dipping into the channel between the two points. The body below him writhed in pleasure and frustration, but Snape took his time; reveling in the thought that he was coating himself with Harry’s juices. When his cock head was coated and the young Shefro was dripping with need he centered it and pressed inward gently. 

“Yes.” Hissed Harry. 

Once an inch of him had entered and gotten coated he withdrew. 

“Oh…no…don’t …more please.” Harry whined at the loss.

Again the hard prick pressed inward. This time until two inches had been encompassed. Again he pulled out. He entered more deeply next stroke and the next. During the fourth or fifth stoke he met resistance and pushed past it. All the while the young man beneath him writhed and begged. 

“Oh gods please; More…Sir…more. I need you please!” Harry said over and over. “I need you, inside me. Claim me, please, Please!” He begged.

Severus was fighting both the instruction from Voldemort and his natural inclination, as well as that of the brat beneath him. “Now, now my selfish little imp. Carefully. You are so tight and hot. I do not want to hurt you. You feel so good.”

By the time he was all the way seated inside his little one, Snape was sweating. The effort of holding back and not slamming into the welcoming heat was immense. His iron determination held him still as he waited for his angel to adjust to his presence inside.

Harry wriggled against him rubbing his cock and balls against the man’s pelvic bone while he squeezed the prick inside him. He could feel Snape inside him. He was so full. It felt so good. It rubbed him inside in places he hadn’t known he could feel pleasure. It was just so right. He could not stop rutting against the man whose prick was filling him.

Harry began to make wordless noises as he fucked himself on Snape’s swollen penis. 

Certain the little one was ready he pushed Harry back against the table and pressing him there gently with his weight he stilled the boy. He stood back upright and holding onto the narrow hips he brought the younger man’s bottom down over the edge of the table. He drew his hips back a little and then forward. His eyes were glued to Harry’s face watching for any signs of discomfort. He began to slowly piston his hips in and out.

Harry’s wordless cries became words. “Please more, please. Oh sir. Harder uh uh. Faster. Please!” He urged the man above him until Snape was indeed fucking him for all he was worth. Their world was a symphony of skin sliding and the wet slap of the force of Snape’s strokes. Harry’s back arched high off the table as his hands, scratched at the surface. Snape felt the tight channel become tighter and wetter and then just as he began to cum himself he watched the younger man’s penis erupt untouched. 

His breathing returned to normal and he felt the faint wash of magic as Harry released the privacy circle. The peace of post-orgasmic bliss was shattered when he heard the words, “Severus turn and show us your prick.” Said in Bellatrix’ voice, with the force of the imperious command behind it. 

Unable to do anything else, with his penis still standing out from his robes and trousers, he turned. The three others laughed and he looked down wondering if he was really so poorly endowed as the warrant such a reaction. He found that his penis was coated with a light, red sheen of blood.

“Ooh was ickle potty a virgin?” Bellatrix cooed. 

Having followed Bellatrix’ command Snape was free to turn away. He spun back toward Harry. They had seen his face redden and assumed it was embarrassment. Tears sprung to his eyes. “What have I done?” He whispered. 

Harry had been wiggling himself back into his pants while this had gone on. The tall dark man was too close to the table for Harry to slip off and get his shoe, but having his pants secured made him feel better. He was vaguely worried that one of the others in the room would want a go with him. That worry was chased away by another when he saw the state his darling man was in. 

“Oh gods. What have I done?” Snape whispered again, his face now gone pale, his eyes wide.

Harry pulled Severus to him by the front of his robes and made a show of doing up his fastenings to stall for time. “Hush sir. It’s alright.” Harry hissed quietly.

“Blood.” Snape said. He seemed to be going into shock.

Harry leaned up, “Hymen.” He explained. “You were gentle. It didn’t hurt.” He stated. 

That mollified the man for a moment and he seemed to rally for a heartbeat, but he crumbled again. Harry wondered if it was a physical reaction to being forced to break the compulsion.

When Snape said “Oh gods. How sick…I had sex with you.” With wide eyes, Harry changed his mind about what was causing Snape’s distress. He thought that the poor man hadn’t realized what he would be getting into with a shefro. This dear man had been forced into a kind of bestiality and he was in shock. 

Acting quickly and pushing aside the momentary rush of tears he said, “yes sir,” very firmly as though responding to an order. He then cast a cleaning charm on them both. When Snape mumbled again saying, “Are you alright?” Harry said “Yes Sir,” Again and handed him the leash. He slid off the table leaned up to Snape and said “obliviate” in his ear. Then he spun the man around and waited for his years as a spy to take over.

Snape was momentarily confused. He shook his head and looked around. The last thing he’d known they were by the door and Bellatrix was implying that he’d have to pass some kind of a test with Harry to be believed. Now he was faced with the three most evil people he knew and they all looked impressed, convinced and slightly jealous. 

Alice in wonderland was once instructed that when one is at a loss for what to do one should curtsy. Well it is true. So Snape went to his knees, as was the customary way to bow to this lord, drawing Harry down with him.

“Well done Snape.” Voldemort hissed. “Bring the boy forward. He may present me with his gift.” 

Whilst on his knees Snape wondered at the boneless feeling of his limbs and the most satisfied feeling in his heart. He slid his usual mask of supremacy onto his face and rose. He led Harry along behind him.

“Crawl to my master pet.” He said to Harry, stopping him from rising to his feet.

They progressed across the room at a stately pace. Snape was doing a very good impression of someone who was showing a dog in a show. Harry was playing his part equally well. 

The dark lord seated himself and awaited them regally. He was thrilled. Potter was little more than a puppet. The next trick would be to get either the potions master to resign or the whelp to formally withdraw from Hogwarts so that the restriction from harming the boy would release Snape, so that he could mold the boy’s mind into the perfect tool. The boy was kneeling prettily at his feet. An eerie smile of satisfaction lit the snake like visage.

“What did you bring me boy?” Voldemort asked. 

Lucius drew up to the dark lord’s left while Bellatrix stood at his right. They wanted to see this vaunted goblet as well as remind their master that they too were loyal subjects.

Snape let his right arm drop casually to his side and palmed his wand. As they had practiced it would be up to Snape to silently dispatch the other two while Harry dealt with Riddle.

The little Shefro drew the cup from beneath his robes and held it up with two hands inches from the dark lord’s knees. The man looked down into the bowl of the goblet and his gaze was caught. Harry had him. He had begun to push Voldemort’s estranged soul pieces back into his body. The man’s nervous system was completely overridden by the spirit’s need for energy and unknown quest to be whole.

As soon as his dark master went rigid Snape cast, first on Bellatrix whose eyes were most mobile, and then on Malfoy who was staring at the jewel encrusted cup. They were both petrified and falling to the floor within a second. He cast a binding charm and then tied them with rope he transfigured from some string he had brought. He was taking no changes with this pair.

When he turned back to the dark lord he saw that the man was blank eyed, slack mouthed and drooling. Harry was shaking with concentration. The cup was filling with some sort of black and gray substance. Finally the young man nodded and placed the cup on the ground. He drew out his wand and petrified Tom Riddle.

“Is it done?” Snape asked.

“Yes. His soul is healed and his magic is withdrawn. He’s a squib now, nearly a muggle.” Harry told him.

Severus reached down a hand and drew Harry to his feet and into an embrace. The little Shefro slumped against him bonelessly.

“Are you alright?” The tall dark man asked.

“I could do with a kip is all.” Harry yawned. The process had been exhausting.

Snape held his little love out by the shoulders. The boy was shaking and pale from exhaustion. “We should get you to Madam Pomfrey.” He said.

“You have the port-key.” Harry said. “Oh, and I had better get the cup.” He rubbed his face with shaking hands. “Would you please alert the aurors now?”

Snape let a patronus go. He was surprised at its power and found that his heart was truly free and unexpectedly joyful.

Harry picked up the cup. 

Severus fished out a quill. “I missed a bit of time here. From the doorway,” He indicated by pointing his wand at it, “Then we were at the table.” He pointed at it. “What happened?”

Harry’s eyes tracked back and forth from the entrance to the table on which they’d had sex. He felt almost drawn to the spot. It had been so glorious for one moment to be so wanted, so desired. Then he remembered the man’s tears, his shame. “You will never know.” He vowed softly.

“Pardon?” Snape asked.

“We’ll never know.” Harry said clearly.

Severus held out the quill and the little shefro took hold of the other end. One tap with the potion master’s wand and they were whisked away. They could hear the sounds of the aurors breaching the wards as they disappeared.

They reappeared on the front lawn of Hogwarts, as port-keys could not be keyed to work within the castle itself, only on the grounds. Snape landed gracefully and watched as his love went down in a tumble of limbs and wings. 

Kneeling down he could see that, though uninjured, the young man was shivering with cold. He realized that many people went into shock after expelling so much magic. Harry was likely in shock now. He slid off his outer robes and wrapped the little waif in them. Then he lifted the slender form into his arms and, cradling him, he started towards the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey would set his little lion to rights.

“Harry?” He murmured, wondering if the boy was still awake.

“Yes.” His Gryffindor replied quietly.

Snape could see one stocking clad foot protruding from the bundle of robes. “What happened to your other shoe?”


	39. Shiny metals are pinned

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

**Note:** Okay...look. I am not going to whine about my life but I have been really sick. I am going to live, about which I am relieved and happy, but I am going to wrap this up in a couple of chapters to try to sort out everything that went pear shaped while I was recovering. I hope you like what I write and I am very sorry to have taken this long to finish my little story. Thanks for your patience and support.

Sly

  
**Chapter 39: In Which Shiny metals are pinned.**   


By the end of April the entire wizarding world was secure in the knowledge that the dark lord was now a squib. The man and his associates were imprisoned at Azkaban guarded by a new breed of aurors. These were men and women who were not detectives trained to solve cases and make investigations, but tough duelers whose defensive skills were very good. Yet a third division had sprung up as well. They were currently being called “dementecutioners” by the press. They were a division thought up by none other than Harry Potter.

The press and the ministry had both been uncertain how to face the notion that a 16-year-old boy had begun a government division, but they quickly found it in their hearts to support the notion. The golden trio and the potion’s professor had been standing on a lighted stage waiting to support Harry though the award of Merlin two weeks after the fall of the dark lord. Each of them was wearing a shining silver order of Merlin Second Class while awaiting what all who were present thought to be the main event. 

When called forth the little shefro entered from the wings and approached the front of the stage. The minister whose voice was already magically amplified awarded him.

“Mister Harry James Potter it is my pleasure and honour to award you with an Order of Merlin First Class for your bravery, skill and power which led to the capture and indeed the nullifying of the worst threat to our world in nearly a century!” 

He bent to pin the gold medal onto Harry’s chest and then shaking his hand he presented him to the cheering masses that had come to the ceremony. They stood here on a miraculously sunny day in the middle of April, two weeks after the dark lord had been set down. When the crowd quieted there began a quite chant of “speech, speech.”

The minister’s staff, as well as Harry himself, had seen this coming. The staff had helped Harry come up with a smooth, short retelling of the main events of Voldemorts’ defeat that would have satisfied them. Dumbledore and Snape had both taken time to approve it themselves, despite the whirlwind of activity that had surrounded the search for all the death eaters and death eaters in training. They knew the young Gryffindor was camera shy and so they had helped him prepare. Nevertheless Snape watched anxiously while Harry wrung his hands at the front of the stage. They young man coughed twice cast sonorous and then reached into his left hip pocket for his speech notes.

Hermione noted the trembling of Harry’s hand at the same time she realized that the speech had been in his left breast pocket, not his hip pocket at all.

“Some of the minister’s own speech writers and my professors helped me write out the happenings that led to the downfall of Voldemort.” Here he coughed again but Ron recognized that it was to cover his snicker at the collective flinch the crowd had experienced at that name. 

“It is a very nice speech and perfectly accurate and I will let the members of the press have a copy of it for you to all read in the paper, but I would like to read you something that I have brought with me. It is rather important to me and … I would like to just…well…” He began to stumble, took a deep breath and plunged in. “Well here it is.”

“London Times, Monday April 17th afternoon edition. The article is entitled, ‘Mysterious deaths in Mansfield Park.’ It reads, ‘this past weekend police found the bodies of a family of four dead around their picnic baskets. The Gresham family were said to have been gathering in the park to commemorate the fifth anniversary of the death of their middle child. 

“‘Ironically five years ago this child, Peter Gresham, aged 11, was struck and killed by a motorcar in the adjoining parking lot. The family apparently has gathered each year to picnic in his memory, to honour him. 

“’No cause of death has been registered but foul play has been ruled out. The entire family appears to have succumbed to despair. Their expressions are said to be ‘those of absolute misery, but their eyes appear hollow and empty of emotion.’ Said chief of Police Nick Melrose. Melrose also said that ‘There is no sign of violence; not in the form of a physical attack nor of a sickness of any kind. It is almost as though the life was merely snuffed out of them.’

“’Bystander Barb Rollins told us, ‘There was a mist or fog where they were sitting an a feeling of despair fell over us. Then when it lifted my daughter screamed and we could see they were all slumped over.’

“’Her son, 9, added that he felt for that moment of darkness as though he would ‘never be cheerful again!’

“’This is not the first occurrence of mysterious death in London and this reporter hopes that someone will get to the bottom of it.”

Harry folded the article up and put it back in his pocket.

“They are muggles of course, and have no idea that the family had been attacked by dementors. They haven’t heard of them you see. I don’t know if you folks realize this, but muggles and squibs can’t see dementors. I guess they live on the magical plane like unicorns and such.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “It seems to me that as wizards our job is not yet done. Voldemort is defeated, but these creatures still remain. For a time they served our ministry, but they serve no more. It is my suggestion that a group be formed to eliminate this threat. I encourage anyone with a cheerful disposition or who can produce a strong patronus charm apply to the ministry right away. It is my hopes that when our minister finds that he has a good number of willing witches and wizards, who want to work at making our world better and safer for witches, wizards, squibs and muggles, he will form a squad or task force to deal with this threat. I thank you.”

Harry nodded his head to the thunderous applause and counteracted the amplification charm.

He turned to the minister once more and held out his hand. When the man took it and they shook, the little Shefro said, “Sir I am sorry to have put you on the spot, but something needs doing about them…and fast.” He looked at his feet and shrugged. He could feel his eyes misting over. How terrible this felt, manipulating someone. 

Scrimgeour smiled ruefully at Harry, but soon noted that all he could see was the top of the petit man’s head. The little shefro was staring at his toes. His wings were trembling very slightly.

He patted one slender shoulder and said, “Well my boy you managed to solve a staffing problem for me, but who’s going to teach and test them all to see if they can do the job?” He asked.

Harry’s head shot up and a half smile lit his face. “Professor Remus Lupin could do it sir. He taught me the Patronus, and I was only thirteen!” When the minister looked like he wasn’t adverse to the idea the green eyes danced and lit with delight. “Fair working conditions for werewolves you know.” He grinned.

The minister threw his head back and laughed! 

When the quartet met back stage Snape swept Harry into an embrace. He was elated at how open and confident the little man had become since the defeat of the Dark Lord. He realized what it cost the young Gryffindor to speak in public.

“How long were you planning that?” Ron asked.

“For about 5 minutes. I saw the paper there.” He turned and from the circle of Severus arms he pointed at the garbage can. “I stated reading the story while you three were out there. It was the wrapper for fish and chips. I could smell it and it just got me thinking. I always wondered when the Dursleys had them if the paper made the fish taste funny…” Harry shook his head, returning from drifting off again. “Anyway I went from wool gathering while I stared at the rubbish, to reading the article before I realized it and I could see what had to be done.” He shrugged and turned back in to the black clad chest.

“Well that was great Harry. Really inspired.” Hermione said. She was always proud of her friend’s ability to think on his feet and his quest for justice.

“Tactically brilliant.” Ron said. “At the moment of their maximum gratitude, suggest they do what you want, and you get it. ‘course I would have asked for a motorbike or something, but you’re alright mate.” 

Harry snickered while Hermione smacked Ron’s arm.

“Mister Potter.” A man called to them as they began to drift down the hall. “Mister Potter.” 

Harry turned his head and looked around sort of dreamily. Since the night Voldemort’s demise Snape had made him feel like this, very safe and warm and wanted. The potions master himself wondered at his little lion’s new assurance and acceptance of his love. The young man seemed completely confident that he was a vital and important part of the older man’s heart and soul.

“The notes from the speech for the reporters? May I have them please?” The gentleman asked.

“Oh, yes of course.” Harry pulled them out of his pocket. “Er…I guess if they have questions they can write to me at school, but they better not write too much…maybe uh…one question each?” He suggested.

The wizard nodded briskly. “That would be wonderful. May I have the muggle article for them too? They’re sure to ask about it.” He said.

“Certainly.” Harry replied. “Thank you.” He said to the man.

They began to stroll toward the exit once more.

“Do you like fish and chips Mio?” Harry asked.

“What is this obsession with food lately? Honestly. First you had to try every syrup at breakfast on your French toast and now this.” She was slightly amazed. Harry normally only seemed to eat to keep from starving.

“Sorry.” He murmured.

The walked a little further.

“Well, do you?” He pressed.

“Yes Harry I like them very much.” She replied, humoring him. “My parents always get me fish and chips in the first couple of days back from school because they know that wizards don’t have them.” 

“What are they like?” He asked after a few more steps.

“Well, if they are good ones then the batter on the outside of the fish is thin and very crispy. The fish should be light and flaky and…” She drifted off.

“Go on Mio.” Encouraged Ron while Harry licked his lips. “They sound good.” 

Hermione looked from Snape to Ron and then at Harry her eyes very wide to keep the tears that had gathered from spilling over. “Right…you can’t know unless you’ve had them so…if you just wait here a moment.” 

Harry was perfectly happy to tarry longer. It meant longer before they were back at school and his cuddle with Snape would be over. 

Ron looked like a landed fish. He was rather confused by his girlfriend’s rapid switch from playful to tearful. He went along when she tugged him down the hall by his hand.

Hermione marched back down the hall, not pausing as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. When she came to the stage where a few people were putting things away she asked loudly, “Who had the fish and chips?” 

A woman looked up, vaguely startled. “It was I, miss.” She said.

“Very good. Where is the shop and do they take galleons?” Mio asked.

The woman assured her that they did take wizard money, but to be sure their clothes were transfigured properly and slip the money carefully to the man at the counter as the squib that ran the shop hated seeing his muggle clients obliviated. 

Smiling Hermione memorized the directions and turned away. Ron’s hand on her arm made her pause.

“Look Mio, What’s this all about?” He asked quizzically. 

“Don’t you get it?” She asked, though obviously he hadn’t “He’s never had it. He watched them eat it and smelled it with that keen nose of his, but they never – gave – him – any! Wait ‘til you smell it Ron. You’ll see. I bet I can talk Severus into making a stop there before we call the knight bus, I just bet.” She began to march back down the hall.

They found the couple as they had left them, happily enjoying the ability to cuddle. Harry was nearly purring he was so content. Snape was happy to hold his young lion and revel in the lad’s contentment. He was especially elated that it had been nearly three weeks since his little love’s last attack of self-loathing. 

In the fall and winter Harry had gone through near weekly phases where he had tried to convince Snape to put an end to the courtship. The potions master would listen to Harry call himself vile and dreadful things. The tall dark man would hear how he deserved someone so much better, someone worthy and clean. Then there would be tears and Snape would convince Harry that he loved him no matter what. 

That was before Voldemort’s demise. Harry seemed strangely secure in their relationship at last. At first Severus had attributed it to increased confidence. The young man had bested the most evil wizard in generations. Surely that had made him feel worthy. But when Harry continued to accept Severus affection and to seem at home by his side, Snape started to feel that something fundamental had changed in their relationship. As though the couple had been through something intimate and life changing. 

The first few days after the battle, when the aurors were collecting death eaters and praise was being rained upon the little Shefro in a deluge he seemed to close off from both Severus and his friends. Then he seemed to shake himself out of his self imposed solitude and become part of their foursome once more. 

Snape looked up over the messy dark curls when he heard the measured click of Hermione’s shoes on the wooden floor of the hallway. She looked determined about something. Thinking back over their conversation as they had meandered toward the back exit he realized what she would say and took pleasure in greeting her with, “So Miss Granger, where is this vaunted chip shop and how do we get there?” 

She slowed her gait slightly but masked her surprise well. “If you’ll follow me I do believe I can lead you to lunch.” She grinned up at the Potions Master and made an attempt to raise an eyebrow. 

Snape chuckled and followed behind she and the bemused Weasley boy at her side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On this the last day of April the papers spoke of these new squads from the ministry and how they had managed to get ready to face the challenge of the dementors in such a short period of time. It would be a while before the threat was over, but everyone had confidence that Harry’s suggestions were going to bring them all the safety they craved.

Snape found that he actually enjoyed finding Harry’s name in the paper now. It seemed that with the panic over everyone was content to praise the young man for what he had really done and none of them were printing anything outlandish or macabre about the little Shefro.

He looked down into the great hall and saw that the object of his thoughts was also immersed in reading over breakfast. It seemed that he, however had the latest issue of Quiddich weekly in his hands.

“Harry, can I read that when you’re done with it?” Shamus asked from two seats down. 

Harry paused in his reading and glanced at the front cover to remind himself what magazine was on the outside of his actual reading material. He noted that it was not actually his magazine. “You’ll have to ask Dean. I borrowed it from him.” He answered absently.

When he had stuck his face out Hermione could see that this morning Harry was pale and drawn. She leaned over until her shoulder was against his to ask quietly, “Are you alright Harry?” 

He nodded and she straightened up. As she was sprinkling blueberries on her porridge she registered what she had seen in front of Harry’s face was not a Quiddich article.  
She leaned over again. “Is that a potion book?” She whispered.

Harry closed the book and worried his bottom lip. Eventually he nodded.

“I’ve seen that book. It’s a witch’s puberty book. Are you having cramp trouble? I have cramp potion, uh refercio solamen, if you want some.” She’d never even thought of the fact that Harry would be woefully undereducated about the female parts of his body because they boys and girls studied sex educations separately with their heads of house at Hogwarts. 

There was a long silence. The shefro seemed unable or unwilling to speak. The feathers of his wings were vibrating slightly. He was very emotional about something. Hermione knew how her cycles hit her and realized that for a boy is might be even worse. She could see the green eyes beside her becoming shiny and much too bright.

“Myrtle’s bathroom.” She said pushing away her oatmeal and picking up two pieces of toast she stood from the bench and began to walk off. A little later he followed her out the door and met her in the bathroom to which no one ever seemed to go.

“What’s up Harry?” She asked concerned. 

Harry blew out a breath, thanked Circe that is was Saturday and plopped himself down on one of the sinks. “I…ugh.” He grunted, disgusted with himself. He scrubbed at his face with both hands determined not to cry anymore.

“I’m an idiot.” He said. 

“Harry.” She said warningly. “It is not your fault you don’t know how to make the cramp relief, diuretic or birth control potions. They didn’t cover that in the…” She could see he was shaking her head. It wasn’t one of those. She racked her brain. What other potion was in the book. When she remembered she gasped. 

“Ingravesco fateor?” She asked at once.

Harry pressed his lips so tightly together they appeared to be a thin line on his face. He paled even further. He nodded. “Yeah, the pregnancy detector potion.” He whispered.

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Oh Harry. How could you?” She asked glancing down at his hand to see what colour the bonding ring had turned at his betrayal of loyalty to Severus. Her brows drew together over her nose. Her eyes darted around while she tried to recall the state of Snape’s ring in class yesterday. It too had been sparkling silver.

“Wait.” She said quickly when she saw that he was about to run off. She grasped his upper arms and held him still looking into his eyes. “It is clear that neither of you broke your vows, as both of your rings are still shining silver. Please tell me how it happened.” She asked much more gently this time.

By the end of his tale Harry the two of them were sitting on the floor leaning on one another. Hermione was torn between sadness and arousal. Harry’s description of the sex had left nothing to the imagination. It was clearly one of the most physically wonderful, emotionally fulfilling moments of his life. 

She sighed when he got to the part where he obliviated the love of his life. 

“So, you obviously have gotten over the delusion that he was grossed out because he slept with you.” She said.

Harry nodded smiling dreamily.

“How?” She asked.

“Whenever I am particularly upset about something the councilor told me I should use a pensieve and watch it again.” He turned his head and looked right at her. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I think someone is telling me I am a horrible person, and when I go back over the memory they don’t seem to mean anything of the sort. My low self-esteem takes innocent or helpful comments and turns them into attacks on my character. I used to use them to reinforce all the bad things the Dursleys said to me. Now I can dissect them. Someday I hope to not have to pensieve to get it though.” He said hopefully. 

“So when you saw his passion during the sex you realized that he wasn’t disgusted with you?” She asked.

“Well, that and the tenderness on his face before I released the circle, just after he came. He was stroking my face so gently. Hermione…he…he…” Harry sniffed. He was not going to cry. “He acts like I am precious.” A single tear of happiness fell, but no more followed.

She nodded looking thoughtful.

“Well, I can see why you think you might be pregnant. You missed a cycle, you have an increased appetite and your creature side is drawn to Severus without you being all over him sexually. Almost as though your body craves his protection and the emotional nourishment.” She bit her lip, but then said, “You’re also more girly, so I think you might be hormonal.” 

“Girly!!” Harry practically shouted. He liked to think that despite the fact that he was slim and willowy like a pubescent girl that he had many masculine characteristics as well.

“Well, you are sitting on a bathroom floor describing your love life in great detail and gushing over the passion of your first time.” She giggled.

He looked stern for a moment and then started to laugh along with her.

“Are you going to tell him?” She asked.

“I don’t know.” Harry said. “The first step is to make the potion.”


	40. We Boil Some Eggs

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 40: In Which We Boil Some Eggs**   


The potion took two weeks to make, not because that was the brewing time, but because it took them that long to assemble the ingredients without assembling the curiosity of either Ron or Severus.

It was brewed in Myrtle’s Bathroom, much as the Poly-Juice Potion had been done in their second year. Soon they were ready to add the last ingredient. Harry had gotten the frozen ashwinder eggs delivered by Hedwig that morning. They were, rather luckily spelled to keep rather cold for several hours, as they had had some trouble shaking Ginny, whom Ron had set on them. Finally, after Ancient Runes, which Ron did not attend, they met.

“Harry, have you got them still?” Hermione worried.

“Right here.” He said. He pulled the two small eggs from his bag. They were coated with frost. He carefully wiped it off on the sleeve of his robe.

“Great!” She said. She held her hand out and he placed the one of them into it. 

They put down their bags and approached the stalls of toilets. They went inside one and neither noticed the red head that poked over top of the divider to spy on them.

Together they each put an egg into the brackish coloured potion that was under a notice-me-not charm in the first stall. Funnily enough both eggs floated on top of the viscous liquid. Harry turned up the conjured flame under the caldron. Soon the liquid began to boil. As they gradually thawed and sank the potion became clearer and clearer until it appeared to be nothing more than piping hot water with two small eggs in the bottom.

“Okay Harry. Cut your finger. Now is the time to add the drop of fresh blood.” Hermione instructed.

Harry began to root around in his robes for his knife when they heard a cough above them.

“Ahem.” 

Together they raised their eyes to meet the bright blue of Ronald Weasley. “I disagree. I believe that now is the correct time to get the possible father of that child so that he can be here when conception is confirmed.”   
The careful composition of his words was belied by the dangerous tone in which they were spoken. He had obviously found the potion earlier and surmised somehow what it was, so his words were well prepared, but the anger and hurt radiated from him.

Harry remembered how the redhead’s tongue had fairly dripped poison in fourth year. His eyes snapped shut and he wished he had never told Hermione at all. Then Ron wouldn’t be angry with her, only him. Except that she had been instrumental in getting the things he needed and distracting the right parties at the right times so that he could actually do the brewing and collect the ingredients. He had needed her, but he had left Ron out. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, eyes still closed, face drawn taunt. No one knew whether he was apologizing to Hermione, Ron or the cauldron. 

Hermione sighed. She knew Ron was right, but how could they get Snape to come and see the results with out him knowing that he and Harry had had sex? Harry was still sure it was better for the man that he not know. Hermione disagreed. She waved her wand at the cauldron and replaced the stasis spell upon it.

“Come on. Both of you.” She led them back out to the main room.

They followed her, Ron briskly and Harry dragging his feet.

She took several calming breaths and began. “We’ve been over it several times this past two weeks, since we started the potion. Harry insists that we not tell Severus there is a possibility, unless he really is pregnant. I say that Severus has a right to know regardless.” 

She held up her hand here to forestall him giving his opinion yet. “What you do not understand is that Snape is unaware that they have even had sex.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open in shock. He had assumed initially that the potion was for Hermione. Occasionally anti-pregnancy potions were known to fail. He didn’t think that was possible with his dear Mio’s skill in the art, but he had not considered it could be Harry, as both rings were silver and therefore the vow they’d made was intact. 

He closed his mouth. Opened it again and said, “Now that I think about it, that is one of the only ways that you could manage to get pregnant without the vow being broken, was if Snape was somehow forced and then…oh my god. You obliviated him! Harry, what happened?” 

Harry told his story again, this time in much less detail, in order to defend his best friend’s delicate heterosexual sensibilities. By the end he was sniffing and he said, “Listen. I don’t know what the right thing to do is. Honestly. I’ve gone round and round it. If I am pregnant, he could get into loads of trouble. If I’m not, no one needs to know. Outside you two that is. I mean, honestly…ugh. If I am is he going to step up and be the daddy? Is he going to tell me to take a hike?” Harry had begun to be slightly hysterical.

Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand. “He’s not going to reject you Harry.”

“Oh, that’s just great. I am so glad that you feel he’ll be willing to go to JAIL for me Mio.” Harry yelled. “That’s just great!” His face was turning slightly red and his breathing was coming fast. His hands were clenching and un-clenching. He felt a desperate need to protect his mate.

“No Harry. He was under imperious. They can’t prosecute.” Hermione assured him.

“Sirius didn’t even get a trial Mio.” Harry bit back. He had begun to go pale now and his wings were shaking violently.

“Ugh!” Hermione threw up her hands. This was the point where she had lost the argument every single time. Harry appeared on the edge of illness he was so upset and she was just not willing to press him further. 

Ron closed his eyes and breathed deeply. As he so often did when he was trying to be there for Ginny he thought, ‘What would Bill do were he here?’ His older brother had always been there for all his younger siblings and the formerly youngest male Weasley patterned himself on the man’s attitude and deeds.

“Mate, that’s because he didn’t have you.” Ron finally said gently, one hand resting lightly on Harry’s narrow shoulder.

“Huh?” Harry said. He immediately corrected himself. “Beg pardon, but what do you mean?” 

“I mean that Sirius didn’t have you to defend him. Besides…it’s not like telling Snape is telling the whole world. You have to tell him sooner or later. Best get it over with. If you are not preggers…bullet dodged.” He paused and turned his best friend, come little brother, by the shoulders to face him head on. Softly he continued. “If you are, we need to do some serious planning and get him in the clear, before you start to show mate. Everyone is going to know he’s the daddy, weather you announce it in the Prophet or not.” 

“He’s right Harry.” Hermione said, her waspish tone gone. She suddenly wished that she had turned to Ron weeks ago. It had slipped her mind that her boyfriend had handled nearly six years of nightmares and insecurities with their best friend.

“Here.” Ron held out a vial of potion. “I got this calming draught to feed you if you found out you were pregnant.” He smiled at Hermione as he handed it over. “I’ll get Snape. You feed that to my little brother there.” He nodded toward the little shefro and then strode out the door to fetch the potions master.

The tall redhead’s long legs ate up the long hallways that led him to Professor Snape’s office. All along his route he considered, and reconsidered if he should allow Harry to speak to Snape himself or soften the blow to his friend by telling the potions master what he was going to hear in advance. Finally he decided that since the young shefro wanted to be treated like a normal person, whatever that was, he should do the telling himself. He would just be sure that Harry took the calming potion before he began to speak. 

Severus heard a knock on his office door. “Walk in.” He called tersely. He remained seated at his desk with the parchments he was grading but his slender fingers were poised half way to the page as he impassively awaited his visitor.

When he saw who his visitor was and the serious look upon the young man’s face he wiped his quill and capped his ink.

“What is the matter Mr. Weasley?” He asked somewhat tensely. He was expecting something to be wrong with his little lion. He had been acting a bit strange these past two weeks and it had Snape a little worried.

“It is very strange sir and I am going to have to ask you to be patient with me, and Harry.” Ron paused and waited until he got a nod from his professor.

“He’s got something important to talk to you about. I would like you to come with me and bring some calming draught.” Here Snape stood and flowed around his desk and up to his bag that was sitting on a shelf. Ron followed his progress with his eyes. “What he has to impart will really be quite a shock and I think you will need it sir.” 

“Is that so?” Snape asked absently as he double-checked the bag.

“Oh yeah.” Young Weasley breathed.

Snape turned to face him. He realized that threatening and berating the messenger would do him no good. He dearly wanted to vent his worry and frustration but pushed it down and took a deep breath. “Lead on.” He instructed.

They made good time back to the washroom that Moaning Myrtle often called home.

“Myrtle’s bathroom?” Snape asked.

“Yeah. Quite a lot has gone on in here.” Ron quipped.

When they entered they saw Hermione kneeling on the floor next to a bundle of trembling feathers. Harry had crouched down and wrapped himself with his wings. The bottle of calming draught lay near them on the floor.

“It’ll be alright.” Hermione said.

“You can’t really believe that.” A miserable little voice said. “There isn’t any way for it to work out. Not any way I am willing to do.” 

One of the bushy haired girl’s hands was resting on the wing; the other was feeling behind her for the bottle. “You need to talk to him, tell him the truth. You can do this, we’re here for you.” Snape crouched down and handed the bottle to her. 

“Here now. Take the potion now. It won’t make you drowsy like the other stuff. Ron got the mild dose that’s…’child’ safe.” She said cryptically reminding him of his reason to stay calm without giving away what was his to tell.

A strong, though small, slightly calloused hand came out from the pile of feathers and accepted the bottle. 

After a few minutes the feathers rose and fell less rapidly. Their trembling ceased and they lay like a sleek beautiful shield. Snape sat down on the bathroom floor beside his little love and stroked those feathers. “Hush my lion. Hush.” 

Harry stilled completely and then his tear-streaked face emerged from between the two wings and he flattened them to his back once more. Despite it being weaker to keep from harming the baby, if there was one, the potion was working. The small man was well aware that there was something to be worried about, but he could feel his distress in a detached kind of way and he could keep from being overwhelmed by it.

They all waited a bit, none of them speaking. They all knew that the young shefro would be the one to speak when he was ready. The younger couple drew away and sat by the door. Ron leaned his head against it, in order that he might hear anyone coming, as well as being more comfortable.

Young Mr. Potter swallowed, not once, but three times and then he said. “I obliviated you.” 

Snape’s brows rose up, “When?” He asked.

“At end game.” Harry replied. He had taken to calling the final “battle” with Voldemort that. It hadn’t really been battle he thought, more of a carefully planned confidence game.

The eyebrows rose higher. “I see. So I am missing time, but you are not.” Snape stated more than asking.

Harry answered anyways, “Yes.”

“You lied to me.” Snape stated again.

A tear followed the well-laid trail down the tanned little face to join its brothers soaking into the collar of his shirt. The mouth above the collar opened, closed and then the messy black haired head nodded. 

“What happened?” Snape asked, fighting to keep his voice level.

“We had…we…they…you…imperious.” Harry said at last.

Snape nodded. “I was under imperious?” He asked.

“Yes. They made you…Voldemort ordered…ugh.” Harry broke eye contact and changed tack. “After you did what he ordered, you were very upset. You began to cry.” The younger man sounded amazed but sad.

“I was crying because of what he made me do?” Snape had to confirm this detail. It amazed him that he would break character while working as a spy. Certainly he didn’t have the advantage of the suppressor potion any more, but to begin crying…he was amazed.

“What did he order me to do?” Snape asked somewhat anxiously. He had to know.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “I think now that you got so upset because it went against the betrothal vow. In retrospect it looked almost like an involuntary physical reaction. At the time though I thought…I thought…” 

Harry paused and took a deep breath. He had talked all around the point and it hadn’t been so bad, but what if his initial assessment had been correct.

There were several minutes of Harry doing his relaxation and breathing exercises, and Snape doing them right along with him out of habit. In tandem they breathed in and out. Huffing on the breath out through the mouth.

“I thought that you were becoming hysterical because you were so ashamed and sick at heart from what you’d done. At what they’d made you…er us do.” Harry’s eyes were still screwed shut as tight as he could make them, so he didn’t see the light beginning to dawn on the potions master.

Snape began to have an idea of the kind of thing they’d made him do, something to Harry. Either something to hurt or mark his little love, or something…

The little man’s voice went ragged and his breathing indicated that he was fighting tears regardless of the potion. “You were so ashamed…sickened and disgusted because they made you…they made you…they made you…” He whispered. “Fuck me.” 

The pain and fear on the tanned face nearly overwhelmed Severus. He saw the young Gryffindor begin to bow over and his wings begin to rise as though he was going to cocoon himself once more. Before that could happen the older man swept up the younger into his arms. 

“Oh little one. My sweet. I could never be ashamed of that. Look at me…my angel. I am here. Look at me.” The deep voice poured out reassurance.

Finally the green eyes opened and focused on the obsidian pools of the potions master.

“You don’t know. Maybe you were.” He sniffed.

“I wasn’t. You said that, now you know I wasn’t.” Snape said firmly. 

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry I lied. I just…I…” There really was no excuse. “I am sorry I didn’t trust you. I should have told you, but…” He bit off his sentence.

Snape tipped his head to the side. “But what?” He asked.

“No buts. I am sorry I lied. I am sorry that I didn’t trust. I should have told you about it and asked you to understand and to give me time to tell you all about it. I should have told the truth regardless.” Harry said firmly.

Snape breathed in the scent of his little love. “No matter what you tell me, no matter if I am angry, I will always love you my Harry.” He whispered. 

The couple stood up and embraced and then Snape noticed that Hermione and Ron were still with them. “It takes more than a surprise like that to upset me Mr. Weasley. I didn’t need the calming draught.” Snape snarked.

“Oh, just you wait professor. We aren’t done with you yet,” The younger man snarked back.


	41. The Eggs are Examined

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 41: In Which The Eggs are Examined**   


Professor Snape tipped his head involuntarily to the side. Ron had a slightly snide look on his face. Hermione was also challenging him with a look.

“Are you sure you’re not a Gryffindor sir?” The bushy haired witch said. There was a tight smile on her face. She looked as though the tension within was about to come laughing forth.

“Well, I am surrounded by you lot…must be rubbing off.” Snape said in a falsely snotty tone.

“Really Professor?” Ron said, hovering behind his girlfriend’s shoulder. He crooked his finger at the potion’s master and began to walk backwards in a taunting manner that reminded Snape rather sharply of the young man’s older twin brothers.

Ron stopped opposite the first stall and pushing the door open with his left hand, he swept his right across his body in an arc ending with his index finger pointing clearly to the inside.

Snape approached the tall ginger haired man and looked where he was pointing.

There was a cauldron hanging above a conjured flame that seemed to come from the bowl of the commode itself. He inhaled slightly, stalling. He realized that he had posed them a challenge. Told them he was not easily shocked. There would be no gradual dawning of information this time. Whatever potion they were brewing would be some kind of a shock.

“Ron stop.” Harry said quietly. “It’s not fair.” He begged. His voice sounded small and desperate. When Severus saw the potion he would know. He would understand that his freak boyfriend could be pregnant. The young man couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Unless Harry killed the baby Snape would go to jail and it would be all his fault.

Severus gazed at Harry. He knew this look, the sad eyes, not willing to meet his, the slumped shoulders and drooping wings. His little one seemed to shrink down into himself at times like this, when he felt that his aunt and uncle had been right. 

“You are wrong Mr. Weasley.” He said keeping his eyes firmly on his little love. “I am not the least bit shocked. I knew my Harry could brew a potion, provided there was not a single sabotaging Slytherin about.” He joked. Letting the “s” sound draw out the alliteration.

He strutted into the stall. He knew that he was no Gryffindor and so he wanted to face this shock with the lot of them at his back and not looking at his face. His eyes took in the clear hot liquid and the two eggs floating on the bottom. It was a pregnancy test potion! Both of his hands shot out as he steadied himself on the stall walls.

He had heard Ron move behind him in his moment of weakness and straightened immediately thinking the boy was coming to his aid or to laugh at him.

“See Harry, he wasn’t shocked at all.” Ron Said. “No fainting Snape.” He added with mock sadness. 

Snape turned in surprise at the young man’s comment and saw that the redhead’s large frame was actually blocking any possibility that Harry had seen his reaction at all. Ah so it was all a strategic move on Weasley’s part was it. It seemed to Severus he owed the young man a butter beer.

Ron waved a hand in the direction of the stall. “He’s waiting for you to come and complete the test. Come on mate.” The young Weasley said encouragingly.

There was a bit of jostling at the door until Severus put his hand out and pulled Harry in, shoved Hermione out and closed the door. With a click they had the illusion of privacy.

Snape put his arm around his little man and turned them together so that they were both facing the potion. He kissed Harry on the head and asked, “Do you have a knife?” 

Harry once again began to root around in his robes. He extracted his pocketknife that Sirius had given him and after a sterilization charm he poked the end of his finger with the tip. Holding out the cut over the cauldron he let three drops fall into the brew. The liquid within clouded to the opacity of milk and then began to clear. 

At first they could make out only one egg. Lying on the bottom of the cauldron it was like a lump of coal in a bed of swirling cotton. It was black. Negative then. Harry began to move his head around a bit trying to crane around to find the other egg. Soon it was visible. It had been harder to see, as it was pale pink. 

“Oh, it’s a girl.” Said a feminine voice from overhead.

“I can’t see it.” Ron griped.

Snape looked up. “Do you mind?” He said sarcastically to the two heads poking over the top of the stall wall.

“Oh…” They heard a crash from next to them and looking down Snape could see the tangle of stocking and pant clad legs.

“Sorry, we thought you’d put up a silencing charm.” Ron apologized.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked. Though his voice was concerned, his eyes steadily gazed at the egg. A girl.

“Fine.” Hermione called.

“That’s good.” Snape called back. “Because I like my victims in perfect health before I torture them.” He growled.

He murmured a privacy charm then and pulled Harry to him. The younger man’s eyes were glued to the cauldron. 

Harry felt a finger below his chin. It was urging him to look up. He met his love’s dark eyes. They didn’t look angry. He let out the breath he’d been holding. The finger became a pair of hands that were cradling his face. 

“I love you Mr. Potter.” Snape whispered. “You are a miracle to me.” 

Harry felt his knees go weak and saw first white and then black. 

Severus caught him as he began to slip to the floor. 

A quick alohamora had the lock undone and the older man was striding out with a young winged man cradled in his arms.

“Mr. Weasley I expect that egg retrieved and brought to the hospital wing. Miss Granger I expect that cauldron cleaned out and returned to your room. Meet me in the infirmary in half an hour, both of you.” He ordered as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poppy looked up when she heard footsteps approaching. The door opened and at first could not make out what she was seeing. It appeared as though a bird wearing a dress was coming through the door. Then the door closed and she could see that Severus was carrying Harry, the young shefro’s wings hanging limp down the front of the taller man.

“Lay him there.” She said. “What happened?” She asked, a little sharply.

“He had a prolonged period of tension followed by…I believe relief, or perhaps shock.” He replied vaguely. 

He laid Harry down very gently and began to fuss with his wings and his collar to be sure he could breathe properly.

Poppy gently swatted his hands away. “What happened exactly Severus?” She asked in her brisk and businesslike way.

“Harry brewed the Ingravesco fateor potion and after an extended delay has found that he is pregnant…His body and mind under such stress…” Snape’s voice cracked.

Poppy’s diagnostic casting changed course when she heard that the young Shefro on her gurney could be with child. Her eyes had immediately checked her patient’s ring. Silver. Harry had not _cheated_ on Snape.

“Severus go and fetch the headmaster please.” She said snippily.

Snape looked down at his own hand, his ring winking at him brightly. She hadn’t even looked. Once she had seen that Harry hadn’t been with someone else, she had assumed that his older paramour had seduced him. If even Madam Pomfrey doubted him, how could any of the wizarding world believe what had truly happened. He screwed his eyes closed and clenched his teeth tight. He would bring the aurors here tonight. Harry’s baby would be protected. He would prove both the legitimacy of the child and the validity of their betrothal vows.

Kneeling in front of the fire in the matron’s office he called out for Kingsley Shackelbolt. He hoped that his memory was serving him correctly and this was the man’s daily office time. It was hard to know whether to sigh in relief or to back out of the fire when the tall dark gentleman knelt to greet him.

“Snape? Is everything alright?” The Auror asked.

“It is not Auror Shackelbolt. The betrothal vow is going to be in question and if anyone is going to take me to Azkaban I would like it to be you.” The professor ground out. “Can you come to the school? To the infirmary?” He asked more genially.

Eyes wide with shock the dark man nodded. “Yes, I’ll be right along. Just need to gather up Tonks and we’ll be there…20 minutes?” He asked.

Snape thanked the man and bowed his head ready to call the Headmaster himself. 

Soon they were all gathered outside the curtains round the young shefro’s bed. Snape was leaning against the wall with Hermione on one side and Ron on the other. The pink egg was wrapped in a Weasley jumper hidden from view. The three of them were silently staring at the cloth wall across from them, willing it to be moved aside.

Headmaster Dumbledore was sitting in a chair chatting quietly, but amiably with the two auror’s he trusted most.

Inside the curtain, Poppy was seated by the bed. She had finished her diagnostics. She had a very thorough set of scans of the baby and she had checked Harry for signs of any kind of injury, sexual or otherwise. Spelling Harry awake might cause another shock and so she had opted to allow him to wake of his own accord.

Her young charge began to stir and then he opened his eyes and gazed around. He saw Madam Pomfrey and knew at once where he was. In a small broken voice he asked, “Severus?” 

Poppy shook her head. “It’s all right dear. You don’t need to see him.” She reassured. 

At that the young man curled into a ball and began to whimper “Oh no, oh no…I’m sorry baby…so sorry.” over and over.

She managed to get around to the side of the bed where Harry’s face would be if his wing were not drawn up across it. 

“Listen…” She began. 

The curtain was wrenched aside and in poured Severus Snape followed closely by Ron and Hermione.

Hermione went immediately to the medi-witch to find out what was wrong with her ‘little brother’.

Ron sat on the end of the bed. 

The curtain moved all the way back and the other three visitors to the infirmary saw the dour potions master crawl up behind the shaking murmuring ball of feathers on the bed. He ran his hand down the wing smoothing the feathers and said, “Hush, hush.” until Harry seemed to hear him.

From within the feathered cocoon the broken voice grew louder. 

“I’m sorry Severus. So sorry, but I can’t I just can’t…She’s just a baby. I can’t kill a baby…Oh not even for you. I thought…I thought I could…when she was just an idea, but a pink egg…a baby…oh I can’t and she’ll never have…oh poor baby…I’m sorry so sorry.”

The three newcomers stood stunned. A baby!

Snape took a deep breath and said more sternly, “Hush”. The murmuring apologizing voice stopped.

Snape began to speak in a more gentle tone than any of them had thought possible.

“Harry, I love you. You need to focus on me and turn over. We need to tell the whole story. Tell it to the Headmaster, and the Matron and the two aurors who are here. Kingsley and Nymphadora are here. We have to talk to them now and you have to try to stay in control. Are you listening? You need to try to be calm now for the baby. Right now she needs both of us to be as strong and calm as we can be.”

The whole time Snape spoke he gently encouraged his little lion to shift his wings and to move into the cradle of his arms. While the black feathered wings still trembled and Harry’s breath still hitched his eyes looked hopeful as he clutched Severus’ robes.

“I thought you’d dumped me here.” He admitted.

“Never.” Snape assured.

Between the three of them, Harry, Ron and Hermione, they managed to tell the story of how Severus had been cursed and forced to have intercourse with Harry. They left out the details, just giving the bare facts. Harry explained how and why he had obliviated the potions master and Hermione had carried much of the tale from there. 

Poppy looked apologetically at Snape. 

He rolled his eyes at her.

The couple showed their unsullied betrothal rings. Tonks took notes, Kingsley asked questions and Dumbledore looked pleased as punch. 

When the tale had wound to a close Poppy offered, “I can probably reverse that memory Charm Severus…They’re not Harry’s forte.” She avoided looking at Snape, guilty that it had been her first reaction to blame him.

“Actually, could you not do that until I have your statement under veritasyrum back at the ministry?” Shacklebolt asked.

“It would really make things easier.” Tonks added.

“Will it help with his trial?” Harry asked, frightened for his intended.

Tonks laughed and winked at him. “Trial? Harry he isn’t even going to be charged. We need to make an incident report and fill out the papers for the hall of records.” She shrugged.

“He won’t be arrested then?” Ron asked again, just to be sure.

This time Kingsley answered very seriously. “Professor Snape has done nothing wrong. We just need to make a very firm record for when the baby is born. Part of an Auror’s job is to record when dark magic is used. It is Snape who is actually the unwitting victim of a crime here, not young Potter.” He smirked slightly.

“Madam Pomfrey if we could just retrieve a few pieces of information from you?” Tonks asked. 

They followed her to her office where she collected her records to show them.

Dumbledore was still standing at the end of the bed looking dotingly at Harry.

“Albus, just what are you looking so smug about?” Severus finally snarked at him.

Rather dreamily the headmaster replied. “A little girl with a pink wooly blanket. There will be pink and white lace dresses and soft purple booties. Lovely pretty things for girls.”

Dumbledore looked up smirking at the bewildered expression on the potion master’s face.

“What Severus, did you really think we’d let you dress her all in black?”


	42. Things Come Together

Disclaimer: The HP Universe is property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit. This story will eventually involve slash...no likee no readee

  
**Chapter 42: In Which Things Come Together**   


This is my final chapter. I know that I could have gone on indefinitely in a rather soap opera like fashion, but I need to wrap this up and get on to other things. I have suffered from some rather ill health over the spring and summer and it has left a backlog of work that really must be looked after. As well, when I started this story I intended to get to the point of Harry’s pregnancy, with out Snape knowing about the conception, by chapter 17. Well I just kept finding neat places to go with the story and so it wound up being a much bigger project than planned. Truly…I need to get on with other things. I may come back later and write one…or even a few one shots or something, but I think, as my first fan fiction story it has gone relatively well. Thank you for reading my friends, especially those who have been so supportive. This girl thanks you all for reading…and now on with the show!

 

Hermione apparated into Hogsmead carrying her knapsack on her back and another duffle in her hand. She glanced around and then began to walk briskly up the familiar path towards Hogwarts. She approached the gates with the sun directly overhead…it was just noontime now. She wondered if Harry, Ron and Severus would be having lunch soon. She saw Hagrid at the gates as she walked up.

“’Lo ‘Mione.” The half giant said. “Haven’t seen you since the leaving feast.” He commented.

“Hello Hagrid.” She smiled. “I had to go back to Mum and Dad and placate them for a bit before I could come back and help with the baby’s room and the move.” 

“I didn’t ‘spect the perfesser to take movin’ out o’ the dungeons so well.” He scratched his head. “He looks more chipper than I would if I had to move all that ‘quipment.” 

The bushy haired witch nodded. “I think that he’s just happy the governors took his request to marry a student, and cohabitate with said student through the school year, went over so well.”

“It didn’t sound like it were none too easy to me!” Hagrid said. “They had to call in Tonks, Kingsley, Madam Pomfrey and ‘arry’s counselor fella to convince ‘em.” He shook his head.

“Yes, but he didn’t get fired and Harry didn’t get expelled.” She said cheerily. “Harry was nearly in fits by the time the meeting rolled around, if you will recall.” She reminded him.

“Oh yeah, tha’s right. He were fair certain that they’d try an’ separate ‘im from the perfesser.” Here he sniffed. “That’d be a right crime that would!” 

“I agree. It’s almost as though they were meant to be.” She sighed. “I’d better go. I’m going to help Harry with the nursery. He wants everything done by his birthday.” 

“Well it’s not like he just going to have his comin’ o’ age ‘ermione! After all he’s is a gettin’ married the next day.” Hagrid sniffed again. “It’s not every day your young man gets married. Imagine our little Harry…” 

Hermione felt the need to cut in. “Well he won’t be our little Harry for long…after all he’s bound to get pretty big.” She laughed making a motion with her hand in front of her stomach.

Hagrid laughed a little and nodded.

She took the opportunity to hurry off and waved cheerfully to him as she went.

The halls were strangely quiet without all the other students in them. She quickly made her way to the east tower where she hoped to find her friends in the new rooms Harry had written her about, but she had yet to see.

As she came up to the doors Ron and Snape were coming from the other direction carrying a small crate apiece. 

“Mio!” Ron called cheerfully. “Get the door there, would you?” 

She opened the door and stood holding it. He pecked a kiss on her lips as he passed.

“Good Morning Miss Granger.” Severus said a slight smile upon his lips. He felt a strange urge to plant a kiss on her forehead as she passed just to see what she would do.

“Good Morning Professor.” She smiled back. “What’s that you’re carrying?” 

“Crates of Potions.” He answered as he passed. “They keep better if they’re moved by hand and your young gentleman has kindly agreed to help me move them.”

“Well, I figured that with the few that the house elves could carry at a trip they’d be at it the whole summer, poor blighters.” Ron answered lightly. “Mio, can you get that door now.” He wagged his head at another door on the right hand side of the room. 

When she opened it she saw what looked like Professor Snape’s basement office within.

“What, you’re moving your whole office up here?” She wondered that he would be so far from his Slytherins in the basement.

“The whole potions class is moving up to the first floor. The better to be near our rooms in the coming term.” The corners of his mouth turned up again.

“You don’t mind?” She asked bluntly, and then blushed at her own boldness.

It was a testament to what a changed man the, now free, potion master was that he merely shrugged. Looking pointedly in the door he said, “The view from here is much better than the one from…my old office.” He had been tempted to say ‘from Azkaban’ but managed to restrain himself.

She followed him though and noted that the rounded outer wall of the office had a lovely window with a view of the forbidden forest. Indeed she could make out Hagrid’s hut if she moved right up to the casement.

“Nice.” She said while regaining her composure from the shock of finding her garrulous professor so very sanguine.

“Well Ronald, one more load before lunch?” Snape asked.

“Yeah, I reckon I can carry one more before I need to eat.” He grinned.

Hermione looked wonderingly between the two. Apparently the two of them being Harry’s best friend and the father of Harry’s child went a long way to breaching past divides. The past two weeks had changed each man’s regard for the other appreciably.

“Let me just arrange these and we’ll be off again.” Severus said.

Ron nodded and then went over to Hermione leading her back out to the living room they’d previously passed through.

It was a warm room with a fireplace on the wall that held the door to Snape’s office and doors on all three of the other walls. She knew one led to the Hallway outside, as she’d come in through it, so one of the other two led to the sleeping chambers, where she’d find her friend.

“What was that about?” She asked slightly puzzled.

“What?” Ron asked and when she motioned with her head back towards the office and the professor he said, “Oh that. Professor Snape said at dinner the other night that I ate as though I was the one pregnant not Harry. Harry told him I was a stomach on legs and the he’s been kind of ribbing me about it ever since, all in fun of course. He’s a right laugh when you learn how to take him.”

“I’m going to get a drink.” He kissed her once more and headed for one of the two doors Hermione had yet to see behind. “Harry’s through here mucking about in the nursery.” 

The bushy haired girl shook her head in an attempt to rattle all the new facts she’d been deluged with into place. Ron and Professor Snape getting along? A few months ago it would have been preposterous, but now… now things were different. She went smilingly through the doors in search of the nursery.

She entered the last room down the hall she had just traversed. 

“Harry James Potter you get down right now!” She shrieked.

Harry was perched on a chair hanging a set of Peter Rabbit curtains over the window.

Harry spun his head around. “Mio, I have a cushioning charm on in case I fall. It was the first thing Mum-Weasley did when I broke the news to her. She did it even before she burst into tears!” He laughed from his perch on the chair.

“Just the same you ought to not be climbing up!” Molly said as she entered the room behind Hermione. “Come along…down, right now.” She said drying her hands on her apron.

Harry got down from the chair mumbling under his breath about how they were hung anyways. He hitched them straight with his wand and then pronounced the charm for them that would make the rabbits hop lazily back and fourth in their little meadows.

Hermione looked around. “It looks like it is almost ready. I’m glad you went with the Peter Rabbit.” She told Harry. “He’s muggle as well as wizard, did you know?” She asked Mrs. Weasley. 

“Really dear. Well that’s lovely.” She beamed around the room. This was her first grandchild, blood or not, and she was determined that the tiny girl would have everything to make her happy and healthy, that Severus and Harry would allow.

“Oh, yes, come and see the appliqué quilt Grandma has made.” Harry was grinning at Mrs. Weasley as he spoke to his friend. 

“It’s lovely.” Hermione said smiling. It was a rendering of the whole rabbit family in their den. “Truly beautiful.” 

“The room is good too isn’t it?” Harry asked a little worriedly. “It is just the right combination of cozy and airy I think.” 

“It’s fine dear.” Molly reassured patting him on the arm. “I’ll just get back to lunch, shall I?” 

When they began to follow her to the kitchen to help she waved them back. “No, it’s alright Harry dear. You just stay there and show Hermione all you’ve done so far.”

The Weasley matriarch went off humming to herself.

“She seems happy.” Hermione said. “I was a little worried how she would take it. I am so glad it went well.” 

Harry took the hint and unfolded the story to her as he was showing her the pillowcases for the bed and the tapestry he had yet to hang. “Yeah, well after we met up at King’s Cross and Severus and I said that we needed to make a family announcement she made a huge meal. Fred and George came that night and Bill too. He brought Fleur…oh…and Charlie was even in the fire. I told them the story of what happened that night, er you know…at end game and then about the baby and then about the wedding the day after my birthday. You should have seen their mouths hanging open. It was something.” He giggled.

“I bet you weren’t laughing then!” Hermione said as she admired at the rabbits moving around the bright, clear forest scene languidly. 

“No.” Harry shook his head and turned red. “I told most of it from Sev’rus lap with my face in his shoulder making his robes all snotty with my crying.” He sighed. “I have been mostly in control since then, actually.” He brightened.

“Well good.” She nodded. Together they rolled the tapestry back up and Harry showed her the knitted net Molly had made for the stuffed animals that the other students had already bestowed on the unborn child. Pink bunnies and purple dragons were the gifts of choice.

“I’m going to hang it like a hammock there over the change table. Here look…the drawers are already stocked with nappys and whatnot!” He showed her. “Professor McGonagall got that lot.” 

“It looks like a lot of work moving up here. I’m glad you decided to stay in school.” She smiled. 

“Well, I didn’t like the idea of Severus abandoning his Slytherins so that I could still be a new mummy and a student, but it turns out that they are quite used to Professor Sinestra and will mind him and trust him no problem. Besides if it becomes too much when the baby is born in the New Year, I can skive off a lot and then just try to bone up right before newts.” He explained.

“Remember that Ravenclaw seventh year that got pregnant? Her parents took her right out of School right before the baby was born and she came back for Newts and passed most of them.” Hermione added encouragingly.

“That did weigh in my judgment actually. I think I’m almost as smart as she was.” Harry said doubtfully.

“Smarter likely,” Hermione said a little sharply. She had yet to catch up with Harry reading in the library.

Harry shook his head at her. “Well actually what pinned it was when Ron pointed out that I would at that point be rather closely related to a professor who could make sure I knew the material.” 

“Well, it is a good strategy Harry. Use your strengths and a live in tutor is definitely a strength.” She averred her agreement.

They had gone through all the drawers in the change table and Harry opened the wardrobe. There, lined up, were four tiny pink dresses with various different lace and bead patterns and styles. Hermione sighed. “Oh, they’re darling.”

“Yes indeed.” A deep voice from behind them drawled. “The poor little thing is going to look so much like a confection that I doubt Professor Dumbledore will be able to keep from salivating over her!” 

“Oh, Professor, don’t you think they’re cute?” Hermione asked half scolding. “A little girl ought to be allowed to be pretty if she can.” 

“Why can’t she be pretty in sensible colors?” He asked, half exasperated. 

“She can be sensible when she grows up.” Hermione countered.

“Not if she doesn’t have any practice at it.” He came back.

“You can help her practice by keeping her mind sharp regardless of her attire.” She said.

“Yes, but if she looks frivolous…” He began.

“You of all people should know that the outside does not always reflect that which is within.” She declared.

“Touché Miss Granger.” Snape smirked, but he nodded his head once deeply in appreciation of her points.

Harry closed the wardrobe and walked over to the tall dark man. He stood up on tiptoe and Severus bent slightly to acquire a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll just go and see if Molly needs help in the kitchen…” She began to excuse herself. 

“Mio, just…” Harry Began.

“No, indeed” Severus said. “It being my kitchen I shall _go and see_.” With that the potion’s master slipped out the door.

Hermione looked between the door and Harry.

“We’re not to be alone together.” He explained. “He’s worried about my reputation.” He sighed. “I don’t get it. It’s not like I’m innocent or something.”

“Oh, but you are Harry. To him you are…and he wants to make sure there is no doubt in people’s minds. Surely it’s worth waiting two weeks?” She asked.

“Two weeks seems so long.” He laughed.

“But you’re getting all your moving and busy work done now so that you have honeymoon time later right.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

“I’ve even got all my summer homework done already!” He laughed.

“Oh ho. Model student and parent in one!” Hermione joked.

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Harry’s birthday celebration those two weeks later was fun. It was as grand an occasion as the previous one had been. It managed to be wedding rehearsal dinner and birthday party rolled into one. The burrow was bursting with family and friends. The Weasley boys laughed each time their mother kept tripped a house elf. Dobby and a house elf from Hogwarts named Noddy that considered anything to do with Professor Snape his personal pidgin had come to help her prepare the house for the birthday party in addition to the wedding.

Once she got the hang of delegating to the little creatures Mrs. Weasley found them to be the best helpers she had ever heard tell of. With their help, the wedding decorations and food were all perfectly arranged. The yard was swept and clear of chickens and garden gnomes alike. All the Hogwarts Elves had pitched in together to create a beautiful canopy for the couple to be bonded beneath. It was an honor they enjoyed. Each one of the Professors who had lived and been served in the castle so long was dear to them. They all popped around just before the wedding to see how it looked. The cracks of apparition sounded like firecrackers going off in the yard. 

Later once the guests were seated and comfortable, a charmed harp played in the background. Harry exited the kitchen door as soon as he saw Severus step through the gate and into the yard. They met at the bottom of the aisle and walked toward the ministry official at the top together hand in hand. The harp was silent and the minister said:

We give thanks to the Beloved One, the Great Mystery of Life as it weaves the spirit of love throughout every heart, body and mind within this gathering. May the blending of our hearts prepare us to remember the truth of unity and oneness as we bear witness to the sacred ceremony of marriage. May the radiance of joy on this special day, overflow with peace and harmony throughout the rest of Harry and Severus’ life together as bonded partners. And may this peace & harmony continue to expand, bringing joy to their families and friends and to all others who enter their home and circle of life. 

He continued on in much the same way for a while as Harry and Severus looked at each other, first nervously and then covetously. Harry watched the Potion Master’s hands admiring the graceful way they folded in front of the man. Admiring the strength and skill that lay in the long tapered fingers. 

Severus admired the young man across from him. The bright emotive eyes, the long dark lashes that framed them. Everything that made Harry exactly what Madam Pomfrey had called him in third year…’delicate’. Harry’s wings were preened to perfection and framed his shoulders, curling slightly around his upper arms in a nervous gesture that Snape found endearing. When he thought that this was his beloved, carrying his little one within, he was flooded with a feeling of gratitude. He still did not remember the sex, as he had avoided having the memory restored, but the child was very real to him in every way. The fates had been kind to the Greasy Git of _Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Harry could hardly believe he was standing here. It was scarcely more than a year since his existence was nothing short of miserable. No one had wanted him then and he had thought that no one could ever love him. The year and a bit of steady counseling, support and love had not been wasted on him. He had taken in the emotional support and had healed. Now he glowed.

When the time came they each repeated their vows. The minister asked them each, “Will you unconditionally accept this man to be your husband? Will you devote your life to loving him, nourishing him and honoring his uniqueness? Will you support him in health & nurture him in times of sickness for as long as you both shall live?” They both replied that they would.

When the wizard was done casting the bonding spells on their promise rings to transform them into wedding bands and all the ceremony was done, they turned to one another before the friends and family gathered there and said together:

“I join my life to yours as your beloved life partner, most intimate friend and confidant. I pledge to be true to you, to respect you, and to grow with you through the years to come. With you I will walk the path of love and devotion forevermore!”

They were presented as Mr. Potter-Snape And Mr. Snape-Potter. (Each gentleman kept his original surname to the front, in order to eliminate confusion) They gratefully received a round of enthusiastic applause and made their escape as soon thereafter as they could.

That evening ensconced in their rooms at Hogwarts with all their vacation bags packed around them Harry brought Severus a glass of champagne in a flute Dobby had found for him. He himself held a glass of white grape juice in deference to the little girl growing within.

The clinked glasses and drank. Harry set down his glass and took the older gentleman’s from his hand. He leaned into his tall mate and placing both hands on his chest he tipped his head to look straight up. He whispered, “I think we’re alone now.” 

Snape took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When next they opened them, they were drawn to Harry’s lips. The lips he had denied himself these past few months. He dipped his head for a taste. Ever so softly he pressed his lips to those of the young man in his arms. He could smell the sweet juice that Harry had drunk and, even while the insecure part of his brain wondered what the hell a man like him was doing here, the desire to taste those lips coursed through him. 

Harry felt the mouth of his new husband pressed to his. His nostrils dilated to take in the scent of the man he loved. Unable to deny his own desire he opened his mouth and lapped at Severus’ lips with his tongue. Tasting the champagne and beneath it the flavor of the potions master that he so craved. His tongue could feel the roughness of Severus beard growing in beneath his narrow lips.

All thoughts of inadequacy fled the potion master’s mind and were replaced by the pleasure of having his mouth licked and nibbled by his little one. He opened his mouth and captured Harry’s passionately. He probed with his tongue and then felt the blood pulse in his groin when the younger man sucked on it. Snape’s hands threaded though the short black locks, holding the little face still so that he could claim the boy’s mouth for his own. 

The feeling of those talented potion stained fingers running across the back of Harry’s head made his skin tingle. He began to feel very hot. His inner thighs began to tingle and he could feel his body tighten up. His hands ran up Snape’s sides and hooked them over his shoulders, forcing the older man down slightly. He pressed the length of his body against the long lean form in front of him.

The Shefro’s small, tight body against Snape nearly made his knees give. He could feel Harry’s arousal even through all the formal garments they both wore. He moved his hands from Harry’s hair and down to either side of his face pulling back to place smaller kisses on the straight little nose, closed eyes, forehead and cheeks. He ran his hands down to the collar of his new husbands robes and began to undo buttons. 

As Severus undid the top button of his robe and then his shirt his cool fingers grazed the heated flesh beneath. Harry moaned with pleasure when he felt a kiss followed by the flick of a tongue and then breath upon the spot, to heat, wet and then cool the place. Then the next set of buttons opened and Snape kissed and laved even lower down the center of his chest. Harry’s hands had moved to the tops of Snape’s shoulders as the man had lowered himself to kneel on the floor, the farther down his hands and mouth traveled.

Once five sets of tiny buttons were opened a cool hand slid inside, beneath both robe and shirt, and caressed Harry’s collarbone, pectoral muscle and nipple. The buttons continued to open, but the hand remained, massaging and heightening the rush of blood Harry felt to his groin. Once Severus had most of the buttons opened he reached up and tried to encourage the robes and shirt to slide off Harry’s shoulders. They would of course not slide…the young shefro’s wings were in the way. 

In his arms Harry was shaking with pleasure. He had begun to make a subconscious sound in his throat and was giving off the most luscious heat. Wanting to drop the robes on the floor and completely bare Harry’s chest the older man forgotten about the row of buttons that ran down the back of Harry’s outfit, along his spine, from the nape of his neck to the center of where his wings met. 

Harry groaned. “Oh, no.” His breath hitched. What a moment to be reminded that you are a--. 

His thoughts were stopped by Snape’s mouth. It was pressed firmly to the young Gryffindor’s exposed nipple. This was heavenly. Every time a button behind his neck came undone the tongue would flick against his chest and make fire race to his groin. By the time all the buttons on the back of the robes and shirt were opened the younger man scarcely believed that he could stand much longer.

Severus couldn’t believe how responsive Harry was. There was no awkward shyness, no attempt to damp down the feelings that were coming to the fore. The young man did not try to play it cool. He melted into the older man’s embrace. Once the buttons were undone and the cloth began to slide down Harry’s form Snape helped him step out of the robes and shirt leaving them in a strange circle on the floor. The smooth skin of the torso beneath his fingers was incredibly fine. He leaned forward to feel it with his cheek, his lips and his tongue.

The sensation of the potion master’s hands roaming his upper body was intoxicating. The scent of the man was all over him and his skin twitched and warmed and tingled, as the older man was everywhere and nowhere at once. His nipple was laved, and then tweaked while his stomach and flanks were stroked. His belly was kissed and then a tongue ran along the top of his trousers. Fingers trailed around to his back and feathered down his buttocks, firming up to squeeze them gently and draw him forward to press the front of his pants against Snape’s cheek. Harry’s whole body trembled with the effort of keeping upright under the onslaught of pleasure. His groin heated up immensely as Severus pressed his mouth to the placard of the dress pants and breathed out.

“Undo your trousers my little one.” A breathless voice told Harry. Gladly he obeyed. One of Serverus’ hands was at his back keeping him standing while the other was untying his shoes. Each shoe and sock was removed and then the hands returned to his waist just above the band of the slacks. 

“Now take them off for me…underpants as well.” The soft strong hands supported him though out this endeavor and then he stood nude before the man who knelt at his feet.

With his hands on Harry’s hips Snape leaned back and looked up and down the lean frame. Nowhere was there evidence of Harry’s malnutrition. The painfully thin boy of a year ago was gone. Now this healthy young man stood before him. 

Harry’s wings curled forward slightly as he was examined. He turned a little red, his erection wilted slightly. His eyelashes dusted his cheeks as he shyly looked down. His husband was fully dressed kneeling at his feet, his robes splayed out around him. The man before him was the picture of masculine grace. Their eyes met and Severus saw the insecurity in the green eyes above him.

“You are beautiful little one.” He let it show on his face, the lust that he felt. His penis was rock hard and heavy beneath his robes. He was barely restraining himself from simply ravishing the vision before him. Snape leaned forward and rested his cheek against Harry’s thigh and allowed his hands to drop from the boy’s hips to caress his buttocks. He breathed in the scent of Harry’s arousal and then ran his tongue up Harry’s leg, next to the smattering of pubic hair that framed his genitals.

Harry gasped with pleasure and Snape let go his control. He lapped wet lines on either side of the younger man’s groin and across the tight skin inside his hips, all the while steering him backwards toward a low chair in the corner of their living room. The shaking legs could barely carry the shefro to his destination, but he made it. 

As he sat he reached out towards Severus buttons. “I think should…” Harry began hesitantly.

The long hair swung back and forth as the kneeling man shook his head in denial. “No thinking. Please Harry,” He begged earnestly, “Let me…Please.” 

He wanted this time to be all about pleasure…Harry’s pleasure. He wanted nothing to be rear up and remind the boy of a time he had been forced to please another. Moreover he wanted to enjoy the feast before him. The young Shefro was so sensitive, so responsive. “Let me touch you…let me…” He whispered, “Let me love you.” 

Harry nodded and let himself fall back in the chair. Snape tugged at the lean legs and the young man’s hips slid forward so that he was sitting on the middle of his back. The potions master knelt between his knees.

Snape continued where he had left off, bathing the young body before him with his tongue. Every gasp, moan and sigh was an elixir to him. He felt he needed them to flourish…nay to live.

When he licked up Harry’s erect shaft the shefro cried out. His mouth perfectly round he said, “Oh, Oh.” Over and over every time his cock was laved. 

Snape’s mouth moved down and he licked at the scrotum and then in the creases of Harry’s legs. His hands ran up and down Harry’s inner thighs slowly, encouraging the boy to spread his legs wider and wider. He lifted the sack, massaging it and licked the slit beneath it. He reveled in the fact that a hermaphrodite gave him so many lovely pleasure buttons to push. He sucked the clit into his mouth and was rewarded by cries for more.

He used his thumb to circle the pleasure bud while his hand rolled the boy’s balls in his palm and pressing them to the shaft above. His tongue began to circle Harry’s anus and the thumb of his other hand began to tease the slit entering ever so slightly and then exiting again. This action had the wonderful effect of bringing the juices from the slit down to the anus. He began to dip his tongue into the anus as well carrying this natural lubricant along with it. 

After he teased like this with his talented hands for a few minutes Harry’s breath became extremely ragged. 

“Please, oh please.” The boy began to beg. It was not long before he became more specific.

“Oh, please…deeper. Sev…deeper. I need you in me. Oh… more please more inside me.” 

When the pleas approached sobs Snape lifted his mouth off the young man’s genitals, sliding the thumb that had been on his clit down and using it to probe his anus.

“More…More…Inside…Please!” Harry begged.

“Do you want me here?” Snape wiggled the thumb in the folds of Harry’s Vagina. “Or here?” He pressed the thumb further into Harry’s ass.

“Oh…both…uh…please.” Bewildered the young man did not know which to choose. He’d brought himself off touching both or either many times, but that was nothing compared to the high he felt now.

Severus whispered a spell and his buttons began to undo themselves.

“Both…Oh you are eager aren’t you my little one.” He growled. He grit his teeth together to stave off his own impatient libido and leaving the vagina for a moment fumbled in his robes for the lubricant he’d brought with him. Being uncertain what his young spouse would want to try, he’d made some with an analgesic in it, to ease the passage of the boy’s first foray into the world of anal pleasure.

He used his free hand to introduce the lube to the fingers of his right hand and then removed its thumb from Harry’s anus. He slid two long lean fingers up inside Harry’s channel and twisted them to coat it with lube. Once he was ready to scissor them he put the two fingers of his left hand into Harry’s vagina and used his thumb to press against his clit. 

Harry was for a moment bereft and then his anus was probed and entered. It felt so good. He liked to touch himself this way, but Severus doing it was so much better, the angle was better, the energy was better. It was heaven. Then when the fingers of the man’s other hand entered his slit and pressed on his clit he thought he’d go mad. It was teasingly wonderful. Not full enough to make him cum, but just around the corner from it. He began to grind against the fingers in him. Snape held them steady and he rode them. Then he added another lubed up finger to the boy’s ass and he hooked them slightly inside.

Harry gave a shriek. He began to grind harder and then tried to move himself up and down. “Oh my…oh…Severus…more please…more…oh…give me…do it…PLEASE.” He sobbed as he tried to frig himself on Snape’s fingers. It was impossible from the angle he at which he lay upon the chair to get any leverage but Severus got the point. He removed his fingers from Harry’s vagina and still pumping the ones in his ass he drizzled his penis with lube. He removed the fingers from the boy’s anus and arranged his hips up higher to give him more comfort.

He began to slide his cock into the place his fingers had prepared. He pressed slowly until his head was accepted in the tight channel. When he began to press farther he felt Harry tense. He stopped fearing he’d hurt the boy and was surprised to feel his little one bearing down on him. “Yes oh, yes,” The gryffindor hissed as he impaled his virgin ass on the potion master’s dick.

“Give it to me.” He demanded as he pushed himself down. Snape whispered a frantic scourify on his hands so he could grip the little one’s hips tight to slow him down and gentling the entry.

“Give me…oh please.” Harry pleaded all the way down. Once he was fully seated Snape squeezed Harry’s hips hard and adjusted him, canting his hips up allowing a better chance that he could hit Harry’s prostate gland, as well as opening up his pussy for assault. 

Once the young man understood to hold still, and did so, he slid both of his thumbs into the wet pussy making a V of his hands on either side of his cock and balls. Holding the young man firmly this way he drew out of his ass and slid back in. 

Harry began a litany of yeses and pleases that let Snape know when he was hitting his pleasure spot. His little hands gripped the chair holding him firm while the pace of Severus pistoning hips got faster and faster. 

Snape began to make a guttural noise in his throat, a noise completely beyond his control. 

“Touch.” He gasped. “Touch yourself for me Harry.” 

Bracing himself with his wings splayed out across the back of the chair the young shefro brought his hand down and stroked his rock hard prick. 

“Oh…My…Oh…Oh…Sir please…OH.” Harry began to keen in his throat. A sound all animal and all pleasure.

“That’s…right.” Snape ground out. “Jerk it. Cum for me. “ He growled, barely understandable.

When Harry climaxed his anal muscles flexed tightly around the penis sheathed within. It was only a few strokes later that the older man ejaculated into the young deflowered body below him. 

He knelt up; his prick still buried in hot tight flesh and pulled his beloved as tight against him as possible. 

“Oh, Harry, my little lion.” He murmured into the wings that had come around to wrap about his shoulders. 

“I love you Severus Snape.” The little Shefro whispered into the potion master’s ear.

“And I you little one.” He replied.

“You do?” The Gryffindor lion asked, not really surprised any more.

“For as long as you’ll have me.” The professor answered.

“Ah.” Said Harry. He leaned back and looked into the hooded and sated gaze of his husband. “Forever then.” He said. 

 

Finis.


End file.
